Growing Old With Kitty
by lilyjack00
Summary: Disciple Fic. Alternate Universe. Youth and misadventure and romance and cowboys. Not steamy, but very sigh-worthy, I hope. This story will be continued in Growing Old With Kitty 2, but don't hold yer breath! These first thirty chapters took me three months to write. Please be patient, and I will pick up exactly where I left off in this fic. All the sweet romance you can stand!
1. Chapter 1

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

_This is a Disciple fic, suggested and titled by DK and inspired in part by anotherredhead's inventive alternate reality fic about the same episode, plus a little sad, romantic cowboy music thrown into the mix. Immense thanks goes to my three invaluable betareaders, DK, glow1012 and singerme, for helping me work out the crazy plot details and steering me back on course whenever I wandered offtrack. Dialogue from "The Disciple", written by Shimon Wincelberg, directed by Gunnar Hellstrom, original air date April 1, 1974, has been abridged to fit within the confines of this story. This is a work of fiction. I have taken great liberties with factual historical details to suit my plot needs, i.e. boatloads of dramatic license. Just roll with it. _

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Chapter 1

"Leavin' for Good"

"This doesn't mean I'm leavin' for good, you know." Matt hadn't quite been able to look Kitty straight in the eye when he'd said that, and it bothered her.

"It doesn't mean you're comin' back, either." She'd dared him to deny it, and he hadn't. Her heart had plummeted with his ominous silence and she'd been forced to valiantly hold back the tears of fear and frustration that were building in her chest.

And then he'd left. Without a goodbye kiss. Without a goodbye. Only an impersonal, "I'll be in touch." No promises from Matt Dillon, no sirree. No guarantees. Just him doing things "my way." Oh, he was so pig-headed and selfish sometimes.

That last conversation had echoed in Kitty's head incessantly that afternoon while she busily polished the already spotless glasses and furiously wiped down a bar that was not really dirty. Suddenly someone touched her arm and she jumped, nearly startled out of her skin.

"Miz Kitty, you okay?" Festus asked, his normally squinty eyes wide and bristly face filled with concern. "You was just a million miles away from here. I said howdy and you didn't hear me a'tall."

Kitty placed a hand on her chest. "I'm so sorry, Festus. I didn't even know anyone was in here."

Festus soothed her in his nasally voice, "Now you jest come on over here and set yerself down fer a spell. Yer a' gonna take the finish clean off the top o' that there bar if you don't slow down a mite."

She started to shake her head, but Festus added firmly, "I won't take no fer an answer. Come on now..."

Throwing down her towel, Kitty sighed in resignation and grabbed the coffee pot. "Would you care for a cup?"

"Why, thank ya', Miz Kitty. That sounds real good." He glanced knowingly at her troubled features and pulled out two chairs. "Let's us set down at this here table and put our feet up, what ya' say?"

Festus scooted her chair in as she seated herself, then settled with a jangle of spurs into his own chair, slurping at his hot coffee cautiously. "Things shore has been busy around here fer me these days with Matthew gone." He eyed her over the rim of his cup. "When do you think he might come back?"

She felt a mutinous lump forming in her throat and her eyes began burning. She'd cried herself to sleep the night before but had made herself a promise this morning she wouldn't waste any more tears or time worrying. But that was a foolish promise and she knew it. "I really don't know, Festus."

"You mean he didn't even tell _you_, Miz Kitty?"

Her voice broke when she spoke, "No...he didn't."

Festus could see her eyes filling with tears and it pained him to no end. He patted her arm and spoke gently, "Now, Miz Kitty, don't you fret none. Matthew can take care of hisself."

"I know, Festus, it's just..." She pulled a lace-edged handkerchief from the cuff of her sleeve and wiped away a tear that had managed to escape.

Festus's eyes narrowed and he felt a lump in his own throat as he watched his onliest purty lady friend in such distress. "What is it, Miz Kitty?" he urged.

"Festus, I'm really afraid. I'm afraid that this time he won't come back."

"Aw, now, don't you think that...?" Voices from outside in the street carried into the bar, their tone threatening.

Festus and Kitty looked at each other, then hurried to the door and peered out. It was the outlaw gang that had robbed the bank and injured Matt's gun arm, shattering it. One of them had a rifle aimed at Newly. Their leader demanded, "All we want is Matt Dillon. Now where is he?" Festus realized there were way too many of them for him to fight. They'd kill his friend if he tried anything.

Newly answered cautiously, "He's not here anymore."

"Now don't you lie to me, boy. I hate a liar like I hate poison. Now I want you to tell me where he is before I blow you apart."

Inside the Long Branch, Festus silently drew his pistol and then felt Kitty's hand on his arm. She murmured anxiously, "Don't do anything, Festus, while Newly's still out there."

He kept his eye on the street while he reassured her, "No, I won't, Miz Kitty."

Angrily, the outlaw demanded of Newly, "Where did he go?"

Kitty's skin prickled with a feeling of déjà vu. Jude Bonner had been looking to hurt Matt Dillon when he came to Dodge a year ago, when he had gathered hostages and threated to cut old Woody Lathrop's throat.

Newly replied evenly, "He didn't tell us."

Kitty's heart dropped into her stomach when she heard the outlaw's next words. "Now...I hear he's got a woman." Festus, a wary look in his eye, slowly glanced back at her as they listened to their leader question Newly further, "Would she know?"

Newly insisted, "Nobody knows."

Kitty felt physically sick with the outlaw's demand, "Maybe I'll ask her and find out. Now where is she?" The trigger of the gun aimed at Newly's head was pulled back as the leader threatened, "You got about two more seconds."

Nightmarish memories flooded over Kitty, drenching her instantly in a sheen of cold sweat. It was Bonner all over again. Desperate men were going to slaughter her friend unless she stepped forward. Inside, she was panicking, her blood sluicing icily through her veins and her head spinning at the thought of confronting the murderous outlaws. She was trying not to think of what had happened to her a year ago as a result of coming forward. Matt had not been able to save her then, either. But in spite of the fact that she was inwardly frightened, outwardly her expression remained calm. "Festus," she breathed. "I've got to go out there..."

Fretfully, Festus implored, "No, Miz Kitty, please..."

She murmured, "I've got no choice. They'll kill Newly if I don't." Kitty shrugged his hand from her arm and stepped hesitantly to the door. She could hear Festus's trigger cocking behind her. Her legs felt weak as she pushed out the swinging doors onto the boardwalk...

"I'm here," she announced...to two young bucks who hardly looked old enough to be shaving. She shook her head in bewilderment. Where was Newly? And the outlaw gang?

"Whooweee! We sure are glad you're here, little gal! Come on over and give us a kiss, whatcha' say?"

Kitty daintily placed a hand on her hip and one brow in the air. "Excuse me? Who do you think you're speaking to?"

The taller boy with sandy hair answered, "You, sweetheart! You new in town?"

The mischievous, freckle-faced, shorter one added, "Naw, Lionel, I ain't never seed her before. I woulda' noticed her fer sher."

Kitty's eyes darted around her surroundings. Where the hell was she? This wasn't Dodge. Her face flushed hot and she felt disoriented.

The young men loped over, putting their arms around her shoulders and waist. "Aww, what'sa matter, honey? You look lost."

Lost was right. Across the street was a mercantile she'd never set foot in before. Next door was an unfamiliar tonsorial parlor. Next to the mercantile was Freemont's Bank. She spoke in a whisper, "Where am I?"

The freckle-faced boy commented impishly, "Lionel, I think she might possibly be a tad bit drunk."

Lionel answered, "Oh, you idjit, she ain't drunk. She's just a little confused. Maybe she's sick. Yer in Brushy Heap, honey! How'd you get here?"

At that moment, Kitty turned and looked back where the Long Branch should have been. She was staring into the plate glass window of a tobacconist's shop instead. But what she was actually looking at was her own reflection in the window. She reached up and touched her face, her hair, her body-it was all...different. But the same. Her knees felt weak as she realized that she appeared exactly as she had thirty long years before. Her expression was stunned as she repeated to her younger self in the window, "How'd I get here? I don't rightly know, boys..."

tbc

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	2. Chapter 2

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 2

"Down for the Count"

Kitty was still staring utterly dumbstruck at her inexplicably young reflection in the shiny plate glass window of a tobacco seller's shop in Brushy Heap, a town she could not recall _ever_ visiting, not once in her entire life, when an enormous ruckus erupted from the Rusty Nail Saloon two doors down. Young cowboys, old miners, respectable citizens and grizzled loners raucously spilled out over the boardwalk and onto the dusty street, surrounding Kitty and her two young acquaintances in a pugnacious sea of confusion, fists flying, voices bellowing, ferocious cursing and groaning. Sandy-haired Lionel shouted to a skirmishing cowboy he apparently knew well, "What the hell is goin' on, Frank?"

Frank stridently hollered back, "The boys at the Lazy J started it!"

Lionel's voice rose a couple of notches and cracked. "Started what?"

"I don't know... Duck!" Frank vociferously warned.

Alas, Lionel did not duck in time, and a stoutly built, unshaven man landed a punch on the young fellow's jaw, obliging him to stagger backwards into Kitty's arms.

"Oh!" Kitty cried, awkwardly assisting him to stand upright under his own steam once more. "Are you alright?"

Lionel shook his head like a wet dog to clear it, muttering ominously, "I'm just dandy..." then yelled to his freckle-faced companion, "Cletus! Let's us knock some Lazy J heads together!"

With a guttural roar, both boys dove head-first into the melee, leaving Kitty to fend for herself. "Oh!" she cried again and briskly hotfooted backwards when two nearby men began tussling so violently, she could feel the wind whooshing past from the force of their blows. One of them was very tall and broad-shouldered, and when his hat was knocked off by his determined sparring partner, it revealed a mass of dark, curly hair, damp with sweat. The young man turned to face her and his eyes popped open wide with alarm when he spotted Kitty. "Hey, you're gonna get hurt!" he exclaimed to her.

Kitty gasped as she gazed into those earnest, translucent blue eyes she knew so well. She was looking into the very young, unlined face of Matthew Dillon. She squawked when he effortlessly grabbed her by the waist and unceremoniously plopped her down three feet to the left. Two men who mercilessly gripped each other by the throats barreled through where she'd just been standing moments before.

Young Matt's brow wrinkled in chagrin. "Miss, you're gonna get hurt! You need to get outta here!"

Kitty detected whiskey on Matt's breath and she could tell by the well-oiled look in his eye that he was feeling no pain himself. She leapt out of the way of two old codgers rolling past on the ground, cussing each other whole-heartedly. "I'm trying!" she shouted, side-stepping a whole pile of men pummeling the bloomin' daylights out of each other. "Look out, Matt!" she cried as a whiskey bottle whizzed past his head and crashed into a well-dressed dandy deep in the fray, who promptly spun around halfway and dropped summarily to the hard ground.

Matt froze and looked at her curiously. "How'd you know my name, Miss?"

A youthful cowhand suddenly noticed Kitty and, with an enormous smile on his inebriated features, reeled over unsteadily and started to slide his arm around her. Matt curled a disdainful lip at the audacious lad and promptly gave him a powerful shove. Then, avoiding a blow from a pugilistic rancher, Matt sent the man reeling backwards with a large foot placed firmly on his chest, remarking to Kitty, "I don't think we've ever met, have we?" He grinned at her, and Kitty's heart squeezed in her chest. It was still the Matt Dillon she'd fallen in love with nearly twenty years before, only a hell of a lot younger.

She didn't know what to say. This whole situation was so unreal, it made her head spin. Just then a bull of a man grabbed her by the shoulders and breathed Old Crow in her face, "Hey, lil' darlin', whatchu doin' out..."

Matt grabbed her assailant and spun him around to face him. "Why don't you pick on somebody your own size?" Matt exclaimed. "Keep your hands off the lady!"

The burly man wavered precariously and menacingly snarled at Matt, "Yeah, who's gonna stop me?"

Gritting his teeth, Matt drew back his fist and aimed it directly at the cantankerous ranch hand, then confidently let it fly.

The ranch hand, apparently remarkably more nimble than he appeared, ducked. Matt's punch instead landed solidly on Kitty Russell's delicate jaw. She went down for the count without uttering a word.

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tbc


	3. Chapter 3

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 3

"Not in Kansas Anymore"

"Do ya' think you killed her, Matt?"

"She's still breathing, you lunkhead! Will you please step back outta the way?"

"She sure looks mighty pale, partner. Maybe we should loosen up her clothes a little..."

"Dammit, don't you touch her. I will knock you into next Tuesday, you hear me? I told you two to quit breathin' on her and get back, and I meant it! You act like you've never laid eyes on a girl before."

"Well, Matt, you gotta admit we don't see too awful many purty girls 'round these parts, and you know Mr. Blessing don't like us partaking of the sinful services of the soiled doves of Brushy Heap."

"Soiled doves?"

"That's what Mr. Blessing calls 'em. You know how he talks. Sometimes I don't quite understand what he's sayin'. Have you seen all them books in his house? What's a feller need with so many books?"

"Dammit, you're crowdin' again, Cletus. And, Lionel, you're breathin' down my doggone neck. Quit that! Why can't you two be like Henry and stand down at the foot of the bed? Like a gentleman!"

"Henry's just scared of girls, that's all. You know he ain't never been with one afore."

"Aww, Cletus, y...you don't hafta..."

"Hush... I think she's coming to, boys."

Kitty moaned and fluttered her eyes open slowly. She felt a cool cloth on her jaw, which was aching something fierce, and she was greeted by the sight of four young, anxious faces hovering over her. Matt sat on the bedside, holding the cloth to her cheek. Sounding greatly relieved and smiling beatifically, he exclaimed, "You're awake! See, fellas, I told you she was okay."

Kitty groaned in response, then tried to sit up. Matt gripped her shoulders when her eyes started to roll back in her head.

"Uh oh...lay back down, Miss. Can't have you passing out on us again." Matt turned impatiently to his friends. "Where's Frank with that fresh water anyways?"

Cletus answered, scratching his jaw, "Aw, you know Frank. He's slow as molasses in January."

Blearily, Kitty opened her eyes again and frowned. She focused on Matt's familiar yet incredibly youthful face. She was so disoriented and baffled. She'd never known Matt Dillon when he was this young. How could this be happening? "Where am I?" she asked, her head spinning like she'd had way too much corn whiskey.

He turned the cloth on her cheek to the cooler side. "This is the Sweetwater Ranch, Miss."

She tested her jaw a little. "What happened? I feel like I've been hit by a freight train."

Lionel snorted. "Just about. Don't you remember Matt knocking you out cold? You went down like a sack o' taters."

Matt gave Lionel a thunderous look.

Kitty closed her eyes again to stop the room from its unnatural motions. "Oh yeah. Now I remember."

Matt's voice was earnest and anxious. "Miss, I'm real sorry I hit you like I did. I meant to hit the man who was pestering you, honest."

Kitty sighed and spoke reassuringly as she lay quietly, "Don't worry, Cowboy. I know you were just protecting me. It was an accident." Then she cracked open her eyelids for a cursory look around at her surroundings. It appeared to be a bunkhouse. "How did I get here?"

Lionel answered, "Matt carried you on his horse the whole entire way from town. We was scared he'd killed you, Miss, and that he'd get thrown in the hoosegow. We ain't got no doctor in Brushy Heap. Nearest one's way over in Beaver Township."

Just then an ebony-haired, mustachioed young man came busting through the door with a sloshing bucket of water. He exclaimed, "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, I sure am glad to see you're awake." He grinned at Matt, "Maybe you won't get throwed in the calaboose after all, _compadre_." He slapped Matt on the back, then wiped his wet hand on his pants leg and stuck it out towards Kitty, "Name's Frank McWharter, Miss. Glad to meet ya'."

Kitty accepted the young man's hand, trying not to groan when he jostled her aching head with his animated handshake. "Nice to meet you, Frank." She looked around the room at all the eager young faces. "And who might the rest of you be?"

Frank enthusiastically took over the introductions. "This here is Cletus Hoke, Lionel Byrd, and our youngster here is Henry Small." Henry ducked his head and Kitty could see his cheeks burning.

"And this here big lug who cleaned yer clock is Matt Dillon."

Kitty reached out to Matt, and he put his hand warmly into hers, and his skin was so smooth and unmarred by all the years of punishing prairie sun and riding horses and getting shot and cut by knives. And she just didn't understand it all because she'd never met him until after he'd become a lawman. How could she be here right now? In this place with him... When his life was new and fresh and uncomplicated. There were no worry lines etched at the corners of his eyes or on his brow. He didn't have desperadoes chasing after him, seeking revenge. He didn't have Kitty to protect. At least not until now.

She became aware of the other boys in the room watching closely, and she released his big, gentle hand, which bore merely the beginnings of the hard callouses he'd develop over the years. All the while her insides were shaking, but she just gave him a slow smile and murmured, "Nice to meet you, Matt Dillon. My name is Kitty Russell."

She watched as a blush crept over his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. And she felt happy because in spite of his appearance, he was still the Matt Dillon she knew and loved more than life itself. He just didn't know it yet.

tbc

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	4. Chapter 4

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 4

"Bossman"

"Thank you," Kitty gratefully breathed as she cupped her hands around a tin mug full of piping hot coffee and sipped gingerly. She peered over the rim at five expectant faces. "Tastes real good," she offered, and they broadly smiled in satisfaction.

Frank allowed, "Henry may be just a corn nubbin, but he makes purty doggone good coffee, don't he?"

"Perfect," Kitty answered, her eyes twinkling at young Henry Small, and the boy ducked his pale towhead again, cheeks flushing pink, but this time she watched as a shy smile spread over his features.

Lionel sprang up and placed a bunched up red bandana on her lap. "Go on, open it," he urged.

Carefully she unwrapped Lionel's package, and she was surprised to find two golden brown biscuits, only slightly crumbled.

"I got 'em in town today at Huckabee's Cafe," he explained. "Our Cookie here at the ranch don't hardly ever make nuthin' but whistle berries and corn pone," he complained.

Matt protested, "Whis-...? For Pete's sake, Lionel, there's a lady in the room. Don't talk like that..."

"Well, it's true. And Cookie ain't a very good cook, you ask me. He's too all-fired worried 'bout his gal in Beaver Township to keep his mind on his job here." Lionel scratched his sandy head distractedly. "I got me a couple extra biscuits at Huckabee's 'fore I left so's I could bring 'em home. They's fluffy and light, not like corn pone. Taste 'em!"

Kitty broke off a small bite and placed it in her mouth. She hadn't realized until this minute that she was positively famished. Eagerly taking another bite, she looked up again at those five concerned faces. "Wonderful," she announced through a mouthful of buttery biscuit, crusty on the outside and soft and tender inside. Again she was met with satisfied grins and nodding heads, as the young cowboys knew what a treat a biscuit baked by Joe Huckabee was. Kitty was so hungry, she didn't give a whit that they sat there watching her closely as she ate every last bite, even the crumbs, and drained her coffee cup. Then she sighed and lay wearily back on the bunk.

Freckle-faced Cletus asked, "Miss, you want some more coffee?"

"Kitty, Cletus... My name is Kitty."

Cletus repeated, "Miss Kitty, you want some more coffee?" He looked down and scuffed his dusty Justins on the floorboards. "And I'm real sorry 'bout being disrespectful out on the street earlier today. I'm afraid I was a mite intoxicated actually."

Kitty flung an arm tiredly over her eyes and answered, "No more coffee, thank you, Cletus. I'm good. And don't worry about it. I know all about boys and whiskey and what it does to them."

Just then there was a firm rap at the bunkhouse door. The cowboys froze dead still and stared at each other apprehensively with wide eyes and open mouths.

Frank mouthed to the others, "Bossman?"

Kitty sat straight up in the bunk, eyebrows lifted. Frank's unspoken question was answered when an older man's gravelly voiced boomed authoritatively through the door, "You boys in there?"

"Hell's bells!" Lionel hissed. The five friends scrambled.

"We gotta hide you, Miss!" Matt grabbed a blanket from another bunk, pushed Kitty's shoulders back on the bed and unceremoniously threw the cover over her. Matt and the other boys perched side by side in a row on the edge of her bunk to hide the lumpy blanket.

Frank piped up, "Come in, Boss!"

The raw plank door swung wide, and in strolled Leland Blessing. Wise, knowing eyes that seemed to miss nothing swept the room and settled on his young employees. "What in tarnation you boys up to?" He tipped back his gray Stetson with an index finger and planted his beefy hands on his hips.

"Nothin', Mr. Blessing."

"We're just passin' the time, sir."

Matt scratched his head, smiling innocently. "We just got back from town, sir."

"You got back a little early, didn't ya'?" Blessing repositioned the toothpick in his mouth.

Frank rushed to explain, "We thought you might need help on that back fence, sir."

Blessing shifted on his bowlegs, rubbing a hand over his bristly chin. "Help, huh? That sounds slightly fishy to me. I have a powerful strong feelin' somethin' is a mite rotten in the state of Denmark. You boys don't ever come back from town early." He firmly crossed his arms across a leather-vested barrel-shaped chest and squinted at them. "Crimony, none of you got into trouble today, did ya'?"

Lionel mumbled, "Well, there was a little fracas in town..."

Cletus punched him on the arm.

Frank hurried to elaborate, "But none of us was hurt, Boss." He smiled ingratiatingly.

Cletus muttered under his breath, "Leastways not so's you can see..."

Matt added helpfully, "And none of us got thrown in jail, either, Mr. Blessing."

Blessing pointed a finger at them. "And I don't want to ever hear that a blasted one of you is incarcerated, _comprende_?"

They chorused earnestly, "Yessir."

"What was the skirmish over?'

Cletus asked, "You mean the, uh...fight, Mr. Blessing? Oh, it was them hands over to the Lazy J. They's always tryin' to start somethin' with us."

"Well, in the future, give those troublemakers wide berth. I do not want you all gettin' into a public scrap. You understand me, boys?"

Mumbled voices emanated from ducked heads. "Yessir."

"Now if you're a'gonna help me with the fence, get a move on. I don't have all dadblasted day." Leland Blessing turned and strode out the door.

The boys looked at each other and then behind them at the motionless heap in the bed. Matt quickly pulled the cover from Kitty's flushed, sweaty face.

"Land sakes, I could hardly breathe!"

Cletus stood alongside Lionel and apologized, "Sorry, Miss..."

She amended, "Kitty..."

"Sorry, Miss Kitty, we didn't wanna get fired. You understand, don't you?" Lionel smiled at her appeasingly.

"Of course I understand. I need to leave here before I get you all in trouble..."

Matt asked, "Do you have a place to go, Miss?"

"Well, I..." she looked into Matt's concerned eyes and didn't know what to say. Because she didn't have a place to go. She didn't know anyone here except him.

Matt turned to his friends. "You boys go on and get to work on that fence, before Mr. Blessing comes back after us. Just tell him that I..."

Lionel interrupted with a laugh, "We'll tell him you had to go to the necessary!" Then he dashed for the door before Matt could whack him with his hat. The other three quickly followed, shaking their heads. "So long for now, Miss Kitty," they called.

Matt sat on the edge of her bunk and looked at her solemnly. "Tell me, won't you, Miss...?"

She looked into his beautiful eyes, framed by familiar long lashes but devoid of worry lines, and swallowed hard. "Kitty..."

He gave her a chagrined, crooked grin and tried again, "Kitty, do you have a place to stay? Family somewhere maybe?"

"No..." She sat up on the bed, pulling her knees to her chest, and faced him. "...I don't. I really don't know what I'm going to do. I don't have any money. I don't have any belongings. I can't even explain what I'm doing here." Her eyes filled with tears at the overwhelming feeling, but at the same time she was extremely grateful that Matt was here with her, no matter his age.

His expression was puzzled yet sympathetic. "I know how you feel. I lost my family, too."

Her eyes drank in his handsome features, so smooth and unmarked by the years. She knew she was staring but she couldn't help it.

"I don't know if you'd think it forward of me, but, if you don't have any money..." His face flushed and he looked down at the blanket between them. "You could sleep in my bunk..."

She smiled at him.

He face turned an even deeper red. "I mean, I'd sleep on the floor, and you could have my bunk. None of the boys would bother you, I promise."

"I trust you." She looked sincerely into his eyes, placing her hand atop his, so strong and smooth.

"You do?" His voice squeaked a bit on the last word.

"Implicitly." Her brow lifted the tiniest bit.

"Huh?" His mouth dropped open a little and she noticed that he was staring at her, too. The thought that someone so young and perfect could be interested in her struck her as odd, until she looked down at the creamy complexion of her own hand covering his, and it was just as youthful and tender and full of promise as his own.

"Completely," she amended, and tucked a couple of stray curls behind her ear. She knew she must look a mess.

"Oh." He grinned and ducked his head.

"Matt, I...I'm thinking I need to go to town and get a job. Since I don't have any money..."

His brow wrinkled as he considered her dilemma, as if he'd thought she might actually just stay hidden away right there with him, but he realized that wasn't possible. "Well, I can try and sneak you away tomorrow. I can take you in to Brushy Heap and help you look for a job. There's not too many places to look. It won't take long, so I shouldn't be missed."

"You'd do that for me?"

"Of course, I would, Kitty." He turned his hand over and enclosed hers in his warm grasp.

"You're very sweet, Matt Dillon." The contact between them was electric, and it made her skin tingle. She wondered if he could feel it as well.

He turned pink yet again and murmured conspiratorially, "Just don't tell the boys that. I'll never live it down."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"I'd, uh...I'd better go now, or Mr. Blessing will have my hide. Just get under the covers if anyone besides us comes by. We shouldn't be gone too awful long."

"You'd better go then." Her heart squeezed in her chest as he pulled his hand from hers and walked backwards toward the door, hat in hand. She'd found him again, and now she was afraid to let him go.

"I'll see you later, Kitty Russell. Please don't go anywhere without me."

"I won't." She swallowed a lump in her throat as he looked across the room at her one more time, then closed the door softly behind him. "Later, Matt..."

tbc

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	5. Chapter 5

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 5

"Cottonwood Creek"

The sun had set and it was dark in the small bunkhouse. Kitty's heart lay in her throat, and she held her breath beneath the blanket while the ominously heavy tread of boots sounded on the creaky, wooden floorboards across the room. Suddenly, her covers were snatched away and she saw Matt standing there with a rascally look on his face. She was so happy to see him again and weak with relief that she hadn't been caught that she thoughtlessly threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight while scolding him at the same time for scaring the daylights out of her.

Immediately there were loud protests that Matt was hogging Kitty's affections, so she went round the room, hugging each and every one of them warmly, even bashful Henry Small who couldn't look her in the eye and scuffed his feet on the floor when it was all over, but then she detected the ghost of a smile on his lips. She noticed the glint of a harmonica shining in his pocket and asked, "Why, Henry, do you play?"

When he murmured, "T-tolerable well..." and the tips of his ears turned red, the boys protested, "Aw, he's a fine player, Miss!"

She urged, "You'll have to play some for me this evening, won't you?"

Matt just watched her quietly the whole time, his grin traveling all the way up to his sparkling eyes, and she couldn't for the life of her remember the last time she'd seen him look so utterly carefree and happy.

The boys shared some supper they'd sneaked out of Cookie's kitchen, and true to their word, he wasn't much of a cook. Bacon and beans and some hard cornbread were what they had, but she was thankful they were generous enough to share it with her. Young Henry made another fine pot of coffee, however, which she greatly enjoyed. She set the tow-headed boy's sun-browned cheeks to flushing again when she effusively remarked upon it. Then they all listened raptly while Henry played a hauntingly beautiful rendition of "Down in the Valley" that gave her gooseflesh with its lonesome simplicity. She whispered, not wanting to break the quiet spell, "Why, Henry, that was too beautiful for words," and the boy's eyes shone happily, while Lionel Byrd reached over and patted him on the back.

Then under cover of darkness, Matt had ventured to take Kitty outside after shyly asking her if she'd like to take a stroll down to Cottonwood Creek. "I'd like that very much," she'd murmured, surprised that he'd asked with his buddies right there watching and hanging wide-eyed onto their every word. Perhaps that's why he'd asked her to go, just so they could have some time alone. She hoped it was so anyway.

"We won't wait up fer ya'," Cletus Hoke mischievously called, and the rest of the boys erupted in giggles and guffaws while Lionel playfully smacked his friend on the back of the head. Matt just rolled his eyes and shook his own head, placing his hand in the small of her back as they walked out the door. She thrilled with the familiarity of that small gesture and, at the same time, the utter newness, for she'd never known Matt at this time of his life before. She didn't know exactly what to expect from him, she thought to herself with newfound wonder.

Walking in comfortable silence toward the water's edge, side by side, elbows occasionally brushing, she pondered all the while what he was thinking and what he would say to her. She looked up at the heavens where it seemed a billion twinkling stars inhabited the night sky and it just took her breath clean away with its mysterious vastness. Kitty speculated if someone up there'd had something to do with why she was here at this time and in this place with a young Matthew Dillon, the love of her life, instead of back in Dodge City worrying herself sick over whether he was ever coming back home to her or not. She sneaked a look over at him as they walked companionably in the warm night air, admiring his tall, muscular frame, a little thinner and ganglier than when she'd first spotted him in Dodge that fateful rainy day in the café so very long ago, nearly twenty years gone by. Had they really been together that long?

"Would you like to stop here a while?" he politely asked when they came to the creek bank. "It's real pretty."

"Of course," she smiled at him. "It's lovely, Matt."

Settling on the grass with a sigh, shoulders barely brushing, she could still feel the warmth of his body and gratefully breathe in his familiar scent of oiled leather and horses and male sweat after a hard day's work. It was a heady aroma, but it was one she craved when she was fiercely missing him, longing for the feel of his skin against hers in her empty bed.

Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when he said simply, "I come here sometimes to think." Picking a blade of grass, he looked out at the water sparkling under the light of the crescent moon. Occasionally they could hear the gentle plop of a turtle or frog diving into the shallow creek.

"Friends are good, but sometimes a body needs to be by himself," she smiled knowingly.

"You're right. The boys and I have had a lot of good times, but there are days I need a little peace and quiet."

"What do you think about when you're out here?"

"Huh?" His dark eyebrows and his voice raised a notch.

"You said you come here to think." She put her chin in her hand and rested it on her bent knees.

"Oh, I don't know..." he stumbled, searching for the words. "Problems..."

"Do you have a lot of problems, Matt?" She smiled sincerely at him because she really wanted to know. How complicated was the early life of this man she'd loved for nearly half her existence?

"Nah," he admitted. "Not really."

"What else?" she urged. "What else do you think about out here by yourself?" She reached down and picked a small flower from the ground at her feet, twirling it between her fingers.

"I don't know." He absently scratched his sandpapery cheek. "Sometimes I think about what I want to do with my life."

"You mean you don't wanna be a cowboy for the rest of your days?" she asked, watching his face closely.

"Uhn-uh," he answered quickly, placing the fragrant blade of grass between his teeth.

"No?" Her eyebrows rose questioningly. "Then what?"

Matt brushed his hands on his pants legs and laughed self-deprecatingly. "I haven't quite got that figured that out yet."

"Ever think about settling down, Cowboy?" The corners of her mouth barely turned up as she raised her little flower to her nose, inhaling its intoxicating, spicy-sweet aroma.

He looked flustered, his mouth opening and closing again. "You mean like marriage? A family?"

She smoothed her skirts over her knees, saying archly, "If that's your definition of settling down, I suppose."

He looked thoughtful, gazing out at the water again. "I've always thought it'd be nice having a little spread like this one. Someplace to call my own. Some cattle. Hire a few hands to help me keep things runnin' smooth."

"Sounds like a nice, quiet life. Is that what you want?" She gazed at him earnestly, holding her breath waiting for the answer.

"I might. If I ever met... I mean, I never thought I'd find someone to..." He ducked his head self-consciously and cleared his throat, obviously gathering his courage. "You're a real nice girl, Kitty."

"I am?" She brushed the silky petals of the flower over her sensitive lips and she felt his eyes following its path.

"You sure are. I've never been able to talk to a girl like this before." He smiled bashfully.

"Really?" His declaration tugged at her heart.

He laughed, nodding his head. "Honest."

"I'll take that as a compliment, Matt Dillon."

"You should. Girls aren't usually so easy to get along with." He dragged his fingers through his thick, dark hair, and then continued seriously, "Kitty, can I ask you a question?"

She held her breath again. "Sure, Matt."

"How did you know my name? Earlier today in the street? We'd never met before, had we? I know I would've remembered you."

"Oh, I, uh..." she mumbled, "...I noticed you earlier and asked someone your name."

He looked relieved. "Ohh...that's good. I was afraid I'd met you once before and I just couldn't...ah, place you..."

"Couldn't place me...?"

"Well, occasionally my buddies and I celebrate a little too much..."

"Ohhh, I see, Cowboy." She gave a little chuckle.

"So we hadn't met before, right?" He bit his lip, wrinkling his nose a little.

"Right," she answered with more than a hint of irony in her voice.

"Cause I'd hate to think that the first time you ever met me I was so liquored up I couldn't remember it."

"No, the first time I laid eyes on you was out in the street," she lied, fingers crossed in the folds of her skirts.

"Good," he laughed.

She smiled back at him, her eyes shining.

Then he looked at her seriously. "Cause I'd also hate to think I'd messed up any chance I had with you."

"Chance, Cowboy?" She felt a little thrill run down her spine and she hugged her knees tightly in anticipation.

"Yes, Miss Kitty Russell, do I have a chance?"

"Depends on what cards you've got in your hand, young man." He was just a boy, really, so very young.

"Cards? I honestly haven't been dealt a very good hand." He chucked her playfully under the chin and finished teasingly, "Young lady."

She kept forgetting that she looked just like a kid herself and felt herself blushing at his gentle chastening.

He gave her a mysterious smile. "But I'm a hard worker, and maybe I can manage to get a better hand one of these days."

She gazed at his handsome, innocent face in the silver gray light and couldn't believe what she was hearing from him. Just a hint. After all these years. She could feel her eyes filling with tears and she bit her lip to keep from crying. All of this confusing business had been so overwhelming.

"Aw, Kitty, what's the matter?" he crooned softly, stroking her cheek with his thumb, careful to avoid the bruised mark he'd given her in town. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

She took his hand in hers and squeezed it tight. "You are just the kindest... boy I've ever met, that's all."

Looking into her eyes, he murmured, "Kitty Russell, you are just the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on."

She could feel his gaze on her lips, and instinctively she leaned toward him, infinitesimally closer and closer. He cupped her cheek in his hand, brushing his mouth warmly over hers, his breath tickling her skin and sending a delicious shiver down her spine. Pulling back, he smoothed a hand gently over her hair and asked, "Are you chilly?" He took the flower from her hand and stuck it behind her ear, grinning at her. "Come on...we should go inside now."

Standing and taking her elbow, he helped her up, and they walked arm in arm back to the bunkhouse, hands clasped warmly. They returned wordlessly, just as they'd gone, listening to the peaceful, rhythmic night music of crickets and frogs and cicadas. When they tiptoed inside, the other boys were already asleep. Matt considerately hung a blanket in front of his lower bunk so Kitty could have a little privacy in her bed. They reluctantly whispered good night to each other and she slipped behind the blanket wall, all the while thinking she'd most likely not be able to sleep a wink.

tbc


	6. Chapter 6

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 6

"Job Hunting"

"Ready?" Matt offered his hand to help pull Kitty up onto the horse in front of him. He had to grab hold of her waist to steady her while she awkwardly situated herself, rearranging her skirts, bunching and draping them as modestly as possible since she had to ride astride.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she replied with a last tug of her dress down over an offending calf.

It was not quite daylight yet. They had risen early so Matt could take her into town and then hightail it back to the Sweetwater Ranch as quickly as possible. In order to cover for his absence, the boys planned on telling Mr. Blessing that Matt was ailing. Kitty felt guilty that he was missing work and lying because of her predicament, but since she was flat broke with absolutely no means of supporting herself, she had no choice but to head into Brushy Heap in search of a paying job. She couldn't just hide out in the boys' bunkhouse forever.

Thankfully, she'd been mistaken about how tired she'd been last night. She'd slept so soundly, Matt had resorted to rousing her this morning by gently shaking her shoulder.

"Mmm..." She'd just rolled over, burrowing deeper into the warm covers and soft pillow that smelled of Matt Dillon's skin and hair and the very breath from his lungs.

"We've got to go," he'd hoarsely whispered, and when she still hadn't moved, he dared to insistently stroke her smooth cheek.

Eyes still shut, she had sighed his name and reached up, entangling her arms around his neck and drawing him close, nuzzling her sleep-flushed face against his throat.

At her unconscious action, Matt's eyes had flown open wide, and he'd had to mightily fight the urge to envelop her lithe, warm body in his arms and slip into bed beside her. Instead he'd contented himself with tentatively touching the thick red hair falling in rolling waves down her back, soft and shining in the dim lamplight. He ran his hand gingerly down the length of it once, then twice, inhaling her bewitching, womanly scent before he shook himself and remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

"Miss..." he had begun, reluctant to shatter the unexpected intimate moment with this breathtakingly beautiful, captivating girl who tugged at his heart so, and he wasn't even sure where the connection he felt to her was coming from. Finally he sighed, correcting himself, calling her by her given name, "...Kitty, wake up. We've got to go..."

"Hmm...?" He had felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin, soft as a feather. "Oh..." she had said, and suddenly she was awake and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She'd looked around her at the primitive bunkhouse and at Matt himself, and she seemed surprised somehow.

"What's the matter?" he had asked, trying very hard to be a gentleman and not notice that she was wearing only her delicate lace-edged chemise, the gossamer fabric doing little to disguise her obvious charms beneath.

Her drowsy blue eyes had searched his and she answered simply in a whisper, "I guess I forgot where I was." She touched a hand to his smoothly shaven jaw as if to reassure herself that he was real. "I thought I just might wake up somewhere else..."

He'd gently squeezed her fingers, replying lightheartedly, "Did you think this was all a dream? We've got to get crackin'. I'll go saddle us a horse while you get ready. Everyone else is still asleep."

Hurriedly she had dressed, struggling and contorting on the bed behind her blanket curtain, for she didn't want to give any of the boys an eyeful should they happen to wake up. Then she washed her face and cleaned her teeth as best she could. Locating a battered comb that'd most certainly seen better days, she'd detangled her hair and pinned it up as neatly as possible using the cowboys' one small mirror.

Ordinarily, she would've hated going out in public with so little grooming, but as she'd stared at her reflection, thirty years younger in the wavy glass, she'd marveled at her own smooth skin with no dark circles, crow's feet, or bags. She had no problem whatsoever going out and about looking like this. Ah, precious youth. Funny how a person didn't truly appreciate it until it was gone.

So now as the birds were waking from their slumber to joyfully accompany the rising sun with song, she and Matt were riding into the small town of Brushy Heap to find her a job, some dependable means of supporting herself. No more bunking with a passel of frisky young cowboys. That was just plain old asking for trouble, she ruminated.

Mindful of that, she glanced curiously down and marveled at her own enviably tiny waist, flat stomach, trim arms and legs. Had she once really looked like this? It was an overwhelming feeling to suddenly wake up in the fit, shapely body of a young woman. Oh, Kitty knew she had still looked pretty damn good back in Dodge in spite of her encroaching years, but she had to admit it was thrilling to have her old figure back after all this time.

They arrived in Brushy Heap before she was quite ready. It felt so good to be this close to Matt. Kitty reveled in the feel of his powerful arms draped around her as he held the leather reins, his lean, hard body pressed flush against her own on a saddle meant for one rider. She inhaled the clean aroma of shaving soap mixed with a smidgen of fresh hair tonic and speculated whether he ever bothered with such frivolities on an ordinary working day, or if his grooming efforts were meant particularly for her. She smiled at the intriguing thought and breathed in once more, just to savor it.

The burg of Brushy Heap was barely more than a minimally inhabited spot on the prairie, just a few haphazard, hastily built structures facing a wide dirt thoroughfare. Kitty sighted a whopping, shaggy mongrel dog, big as a horse nearly, she thought to herself, and his scruffy little beagle companion aimlessly wandering from building to building, perhaps hoping for a handout. Several chickens clucked and pecked the ground as a few pedestrians busily traversed the boardwalk, baskets or packages of various sizes carried securely in their arms. A wagon was parked in front of the mercantile while a farmer loaded provisions inside and listened half-heartedly to his talkative wife dressed in calico.

Kitty glanced around for promising establishments where she might inquire about potential employment. Her heart sank clear down to her toes. The only prospective businesses outside of the bank and the tonsorial parlor which would never hire a female appeared to be Huckabee's Café, the Brushy Heap Hotel, McCorkle's Mercantile and The Rusty Nail Saloon. Not much to choose from. She prayed that one of the owners was in desperate need of some good help. Anxiously, she grasped Matt's arm and he gave her hand a little pat in return.

Squinting in the bright morning sunlight, she peeked over her shoulder at Matt, giving him a decidedly more optimistic smile that she was actually feeling. "I think I'll try the mercantile first, Matt."

Grunting noncommittally, he aimed the horse for McCorkle's, dismounted into the rutted street and reached up to grab Kitty's waist and hoist her down off the horse a little too fast for her tastes. "Oh!" she yelped. "You always do that to me, Matt Dillon! Gets my stomach every single time..."

He looked mystified. "I do what every single time?"

Kitty realized what she'd just said. According to his point of view, this was the first time he'd ever helped her down off a horse in his entire life.

Smothering a smile, she muttered, "Oh...never mind." Hands on hips, she craned her neck to peer up at him. "Matt, why don't you head on back to the ranch? You have work to do."

Matt pushed his hat back on his forehead, squinting down at her. "I don't know, Kitty. I don't like the idea of leaving you here by yourself. You don't know anybody else in town, do you?"

"Well, no..." She started to feel doubts herself.

"How about I go in with you?"

"Alright," she answered, feeling guilty for making him miss work, but truthfully she was grateful for his comforting presence. Kitty realized with a sick feeling that she had never felt so alone in all her life.

They mounted the steps and walked into the jumbled, shadowy store that smelled of lye soap and coal oil, rose water tonic and peppermint. Matt's hand remained familiarly and reassuringly in the small of her back. Kitty saw a farm couple talking with a bent little man wearing a white apron she assumed to be Mr. McCorkle, and there were several items piled up on the counter-bolts of cloth, sacks containing flour and sugar, seed corn, a tin of chewing tobacco and beeswax candles. Dust motes floated on sunbeams slanting through the smeared windowpane where a couple of flies buzzed lazily.

Mr. McCorkle straightened a bit when he spotted Matt and Kitty, adjusting his spectacles on his nose. "I'll be with you young people whenever I finish with Mr. and Mrs. Oliver." And he turned industriously back to his work, measuring out a length of dark green grosgrain ribbon.

Kitty faced Matt, whispering, "Matt, you go on back. There's no sense in you wasting your time here with me. This may take a while."

"Kitty, I'd rather not..." The unvarnished wooden floorboards beneath them squeaked in protest as Matt nervously shifted his weight from one worn leather boot to the other.

"No, I insist." She gave him a pleading look. "I really don't want you getting in trouble with your boss."

"I can explain to Mr. Blessing..."

"Explain what? That the girl you let sleep in your bunk last night needed a ride into town?" She raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

Matt's face instantly flushed red. "No, Kitty, maybe I can..."

Stubbornly, she shook her head. "I'm a big girl, Matt Dillon, and I can take care of myself."

"I know you can. You've done okay without me up to now." He looked chagrined but unsure. "How about if I come back later and check on you?"

She couldn't disguise the relief in her voice. "I'd like that." Then she added, "I mean, if I find a job, then they'll probably want me to start right away, anyway."

"Yeah..." He still sounded doubtful.

"Well then, that decides it. You go on back to the ranch and do your job, and I'll do mine." She stopped and bit her lip, frowning. "You're really coming back to see me later, right?"

"I promise I'll come back this evening." He hesitated, scuffing his feet nervously. "You'll still need a place to stay, won't you?"

"I honestly don't know, Matt. I hate putting you out, and I don't want to get you in trouble. If I get a job, maybe I can get an advance on my salary..." She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "...although I'll admit that's not very likely.

"Well, you've gotta have a place to stay, so I could loan you some money until you get paid." He stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and appeared a trifle puffed up. "I've got a little saved up."

Her eyes opened wide. "You do, huh? Very impressive, Mr. Dillon."

"Why, thank you, Miss Russell." He grinned at her for a moment and then his face turned serious again. "You'll be careful, won't you?

"I'll be careful."

"I'll be back to check on you soon. Maybe I can get Lionel or Cletus to sneak off around lunchtime and check on you for me."

"Oh, you don't hafta do that, Matt. You've done so much already."

"I want to." He took her hand in his and stroked her palm with his thumb. "I'll see you tonight."

"Alright." She swallowed a lump in her throat and watched as Matt strode out the door and mounted his horse. He touched his hat, wheeled around and was gone. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Kitty threw back her shoulders and gathered her wits.

Mr. McCorkle cleared his throat and called, "Miss, can I help you now?" as Mr. and Mrs. Oliver bustled by with their purchases.

Kitty spoke up clearly and smiled brightly. "Are you Mr. McCorkle? I have a business proposition for you..."

tbc

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	7. Chapter 7

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 7

"Gainful Employment"

"I'm very sorry, Miss Russell, but I'm not looking to hire any help. I run this mercantile nearly entirely by myself. I have for nigh on twenty years now, ever since Brushy Heap was first settled. Maybe Joe needs someone next door at the café. Good day to you."

"Young lady, I'm shore you'd do a mighty fine job of waitressin' and your purty face would really bring in the customers, but I just hired me a new gal not three weeks ago. She's workin' out real good, so I don't think I'll be needin' anybody new in the near future. Maybe the folks over to the hotel needs somebody."

"No, not at this time, I'm afraid. We don't have any positions open, not even housekeeping, mind you. I've got to get busy on these accounts now, dear, so if you'll please excuse me..."

Kitty tried not to reveal her disappointment. "Thank you for your time, but if anything opens up, please remember me, won't you?"

The desk clerk mumbled distractedly without raising his eyes from his ledger, "Yes, of course, my dear." Kitty walked dejectedly out the Brushy Heap Hotel door.

The sun beat down mercilessly as she stepped from the cool overhang of the boardwalk onto the hard packed dirt of the street where a dust devil swirled and danced ominously. Her eyes fell on a dismal gray rattletrap of a building across the road, The Rusty Nail Saloon. The very sight of it made her feel queasy inside.

It'd been a very long time since she'd worked as a saloon girl. That was strictly by design as a working girl's life was harsh and unforgiving. Indeed, it seemed a lifetime ago she'd suffered through that seedy existence, but she'd worked hard, pinched pennies and saved everything she had so she could purchase half-interest in the Long Branch from owner Bill Pence. That was over...goodness gracious, seventeen years ago, she thought in amazement. She'd celebrated in more ways than one that day she'd signed the papers, knowing she wouldn't have to endure the indignities of being a saloon girl anymore.

Most of the time, the customers were content with just your company, looking at you in your pretty dress while you laughed charmingly and drank watered-down whiskey or even deceptive amber-colored tea served to the girls instead of the more expensive whiskey. You sat still and listened sympathetically to their triumphs and woes. But sometimes they wanted you to go upstairs with them so they could look at a little more of you than was decent, and touch you, and "have a little poke" as some of them distastefully put it. She shuddered at the bitter memory of all those strange men, young and old, who'd had their way with her while she closed her eyes and pretended she was someplace else. They certainly didn't know the difference. But that was where the money was, when she let them lay her down and do as they wished. A girl did what she had to do to make a living, or she wouldn't be living long, that's for damn sure.

Now, incredibly, after all those years of scrimping and saving to liberate herself from that unsavory occupation in Dodge City, here she was in the tiny town of Brushy Heap, with no means of supporting herself and no job prospects on the horizon whatsoever. Right back where she started. She sighed with a heavy heart as she bleakly contemplated her immediate future. She didn't know what else to do. Kitty steeled her nerves, straightened her spine, and headed across the street to the Rusty Nail.

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Standing at the bar in a spangled, revealing red dress that fit too tightly because it was borrowed from one of the other girls who was not quite as well-endowed as she, Kitty tried not to panic. Just as she'd figured, she'd been hired quick as a wink by the grizzled old proprietor of the saloon who'd envisioned dollar signs when he first sighted the beautiful young girl with blazing red hair, big blue eyes and a spectacular figure as she stepped hesitantly through the swinging doors.

How hard could this be, she thought, trying to convince herself it was like falling off a horse. She just had to dust off her backside and make herself get back on the damn horse. The double entendre wasn't lost on her, and she gave an unladylike snort at the visual image it planted in her head.

Thank heaven, most of the afternoon business had been slow, and she'd been able to appease most of the old farmers who came in for a drink on a warm, dusty afternoon with only her sweetest smile, an amusing story, and an earnest but knowing inquiry into the health and well-being of their wives and daughters, some of whom she was positive must've been at least close in age to what she currently appeared to be. That served to suitably dampen the enthusiasm of any who even hinted at carnal pursuits.

Late that afternoon, while the shadows of the buildings were creeping infinitesimally across the street, she had been startled by someone exclaiming, "Miss Kitty!" The moment was dreamlike, almost as if she were back at the Long Branch in Dodge. Flustered, she looked around for Sam or Festus calling to her. Instead, she found herself still in the Rusty Nail and it was Cletus Hoke who strode purposefully across the room towards where she sat with a young blonde ranch hand who was looking at her with stars in his eyes.

Leaning across the table, Cletus said urgently, "I need to talk to you."

Kitty's companion quickly spoke up, "Cletus Hoke, go get your own girl." He placed an arm possessively around her shoulders. "This one's mine."

Cletus's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "Simon Dooley, you git yer hands off her."

Kitty held up her palms and began soothingly, "Now, boys, listen up. We don't need to..."

Cletus interrupted forcefully, "Oh, yes, I think we do." He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her chair.

Simon protested, "Now just a dadgum minute!"

"She's my sister!" Cletus blustered threateningly. "Now go git yerself another girl!" Cletus tugged an astounded Kitty across the floor and pulled out a chair for her at a corner table. He hissed, "What do you think yer doin'?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm workin'!" She attempted to discreetly tug the low-cut, skimpy dress a little higher.

"Workin'?! This ain't the kinda work you should be doin'!" He took off his hat and threw it on the table in frustration. "I been lookin' all over town fer you. Matt sent me in to check cause he ain't been able to get away just yet. I cain't believe where I have found you! The Rusty Nail!" He shook his head. "I jest came in here to cool off and have myself a beer..."

Kitty's brows knit together. "Cletus, I've asked all over town. Nobody would hire me except Elzey Nance over there." She gestured to the old codger with slicked back hair and a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth while he tended bar and watched Cletus suspiciously. "What else was I supposed to do? I've got to make a living."

"I don't know, Miss Kitty! But you cain't do this!" Cletus jammed his hat back on his head and insisted, "Let me go talk to Matt. He'll know what to do. Meantime, I want you to come with me."

"I can't, Cletus. I've got to work. If I leave now, Elzey may not take me back. Then what would I do? I don't have a dime to my name."

"Please, Miss Kitty... You don't belong here."

Kitty sighed in defeat. "Cletus, you might be surprised at where I belong."

"I'll go ask Matt right now. We'll be back before you can shake a stick, I promise."

Kitty sadly smiled. "Alright, Cletus."

Cletus jumped up and met Simon Dooley as he approached Kitty's table once more. She watched as Cletus whispered fiercely to Dooley while the young blonde boy's pale eyebrows crept slowly upward and his expression took on a look of consternation. Cletus ended by poking his index finger into Dooley's chest. Dooley gulped once and then slowly turned and ambled back to the bar, where he looked longingly at Kitty from afar. Kitty didn't know what Cletus Hoke had said to Simon Dooley, but evidently it had worked. She was safe again. For now.

tbc

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	8. Chapter 8

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 8

"The Rusty Nail"

Matt Dillon charged into the Rusty Nail, face set in grim lines, eyes anxiously scanning the motley gathering of cowhands, ranchers, farmers and no-account drifters that had converged on the rundown establishment once the sun had set on Brushy Heap. Smoke swirled and hung suspended over the tables where tense games of poker were played by unsmiling men, cards held close to the vest, shifty eyes carefully studying the other players. A badly out-of-tune piano was raucously playing, and for what the alleged musician lacked in talent, he apparently made up for with plenty of enthusiasm.

Matt spotted an aging saloon girl he knew only by the name of Lulu June stagger up the stairs with an inebriated, happily cursing miner who looked like he hadn't bathed in a month of Sundays. The thought of sweet, young Kitty Russell trudging up those stairs with another man of the same ilk made Matt's stomach turn. He turned to Cletus and Lionel and spoke loudly to be heard above the din, "Do you see her anywhere?"

Cletus answered, "No... She was wearin' a red dress earlier today..." His eyes surveyed the crowd again. "...what there was of it, that is..."

Matt gave him a dirty look.

Lionel spoke in Matt's ear, "Let's go ask Elzey where she is!"

Matt quickly replied, "Good idea." He weaved and finagled his way to the bar, calling, "Hey, Elzey!"

Elzey held up a hand while he finished drawing a beer for a couple of cowboys from the Lazy J Ranch. Matt knew firsthand the red-headed young man, Junk Kelley, was hot-tempered and ornery. They'd tangled more than once in the past. The other, Simon Dooley, had tried to make time with Kitty earlier that afternoon, according to Cletus. Matt felt a muscle begin to twitch in his jaw.

Elzey meticulously wiped his hands on a towel and then unhurriedly sauntered over to where Matt stood with his friends. "What kin I do for you gents?"

Matt hastily explained, "We're lookin' for your new girl, Kitty."

"Yeah, you and everbody else," he said with a smirk, straightening his string tie.

Impatiently Matt asked again, "Well, where is she?'

"All them cowboys from the Lazy J came in tonight and was vyin' for which one would be the first to take her upstairs." He grinned. "So I told 'em high bidder gets the first go at 'er."

Lionel's mouth hung open, "What the hell...? Elzey! That was our friend!"

"Well, she's with Buford Hicks now, boys. He paid a buncha' greenbacks fer the honor. That little ginger-haired honey is gonna make me a passel o' money."

Cletus exclaimed, "Aw, hell... Buford Hicks? You let Buford get aholt of our little gal? Dammit, Elzey!"

Matt grabbed Elzey Nance by the shirtfront, gritting his teeth as he got in the man's face, "What room is she in, Nance?"

Elzey sputtered, "What'sa matter with you, Dillon? She yer girl?"

Steely-eyed, Matt spat out, "What's it to you, old man? I asked you a question. Don't make me knock it outta you."

"Second room at the top of the stairs! But, you cain't go in there!"

Matt released Nance and shoved the man backward, "Watch me."

Cletus and Lionel followed on Matt's heels to the foot of the stairs, where he wheeled around and instructed firmly, "You boys stay here."

Cletus looked at him in obvious disappointment. "Don't you think you'll need our help? Buford's an awful big man, buddy."

"No, I want to go in there alone, Cletus, but thanks. You two stay down here and keep an eye out for any of his _compadres_ from the Lazy J. I'll holler if I need ya'."

Matt took the stairs two at a time and hurried to the second door down the hall, banging loudly. He tried to listen for voices within over the noise of the crowd below. He pounded again. An angry, gravelly voice boomed, "Go away! We're busy!"

Matt urgently called out, "Kitty, are you in there?"

"Matt! I'm here!" Kitty's voice was frantic and he could hear her sobbing.

Matt took two steps back and kicked the door with his booted foot, smashing it open. Rushing inside, the sight that greeted his eyes was alarming. The room was in disarray, as if Kitty had attempted to fight the ranch hand off, but she was no match for an opponent who was well over two hundred pounds. Buford Hicks had her pinned on the bed lying on her stomach, his beefy knee in the middle of her back, pants unbuttoned. Her skirts were pushed up and the man's hand was gripping the waistband of her pantaloons.

Matt instantly made a dive for Hicks, grabbing his collar and the back of his pants, pulling him off of Kitty and propelling him with a vengeance across the room. Hicks smashed head first into the wall with a groan and crumpled to the floor, where he lay motionless.

Quickly Matt sat on the bed next to Kitty, helping her smooth her skirts down and sit up. Her breath hitched in her throat as he held her, rubbing his big hand soothingly over her shuddering back while she wept.

After a few minutes, two heads wearing beat up cowboy hats poked through the smashed door. "Everthing okay in here?" Their eyes cautiously scrutinized the room and widened when they spotted big ol' Buford Hicks collapsed senseless against the wall.

"Yeah, can you boys wait downstairs? We'll be ready to leave in a little while."

"Sure, Matt. We'll be at the bar if you need us." Cletus and Lionel backed away and began whispering together quietly as they headed down the hallway.

Kitty's sobs had slowed and Matt questioned her gently, "Are you alright now?"

She sat up, nodding and sniffling while Matt dug a wadded handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Matt scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked at her tear-swollen face, then asked incredulously, "Kitty, what the heck were you thinking?"

"I don't know," she wailed. "I... I guess I thought I could do it. But when it came right down to it..." Her eyes filled with tears anew that spilled down over her cheeks and made Matt's chest tighten painfully. "I just couldn't do it, Matt. I couldn't go through with it."

"Well, of course you couldn't, Kitty. This isn't the kind of life for you!"

"But, Matt, I tried to find a job today, and nobody would hire me." She wiped her fresh tears with Matt's hankie. "Except Elzey Nance. Apparently that's the only thing I'm fit for around here."

Matt's mouth tightened as he took her chin in his hand, examining the busted lip Buford had given her. "Kitty Russell, don't you dare say that." He took the damp handkerchief from her hand and dabbed gingerly at the blood on her mouth. "That's not true."

"Well, what am I gonna do? I've got to have a job. I have to support myself."

Her apprehensive blue eyes and determined expression tore at his heart.

She continued, "Besides that, old Elzey is sure gonna be fit to be tied. I busted out the window and also a couple of vases when I smashed 'em over Buford's sorry noggin." She hiccupped a laugh. "I'll probably end up in the red with Elzey after tonight's fracas."

Matt couldn't suppress a little smile. "Well, I don't know what you're gonna do for a job, but you're not gonna do this, you hear me? We'll figure out something. You come with me, and we'll work it out. Okay?"

Wordlessly, she nodded. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him so tight she was afraid she might bust her stays. Kitty was quickly discovering that Matt Dillon was ever the gentleman no matter what his age.

Just then, Buford Hicks groaned and sat up, rubbing the impressive goose egg on his head. His eyes slowly focused and lit on Matt who sat with Kitty's warm arms wound round him. "Dillon!" he growled, low in his throat. "I'm gonna clean your plow..." He slowly pulled himself upright, jerking up the waistband of his unbuttoned drawers and wobbling a bit as he held aloft his burly fists.

"Excuse me, Kitty," Matt murmured, disentangling himself from her embrace and standing before the huge bull of a man. "Hicks, didn't anybody ever tell you not to hit girls?" With that, Matt drew back his right fist, smashing it solidly into the man's defiant jaw, followed by a left to his surly mouth. "That'll teach you to bust a lady's lip." Buford stood weaving in place for a moment before he hit the floor again with a resounding thud.

Matt held out a hand to Kitty, "Come on, honey, let's get outta here."

The deserted hallway was lit by a single coal-oil lantern with a soot-stained chimney. Luckily, it was completely deserted as they stepped over the splintered boards of the door Matt had left behind in his heated wake, trying to reach Kitty in the nick of time. They both looked dead ahead, pretending not to hear the squeaking bedsprings and accompanying fervent cries for the Almighty Maker from the room down a ways and to the right. Somebody was sure getting their money's worth tonight, Matt thought wryly.

Kitty happily felt Matt's hand at the small of her back as they proceeded down the stairs, looking out at the rabble-rousing crowd, and she was suddenly overcome with gratitude and relief that she wasn't still upstairs with that abusive, lascivious man pressing down on top of her. Impulsively she stopped and grabbed Matt's arm, craning her neck to look up at her tall, handsome companion. "Thanks for bailin' me out tonight, Cowboy."

"Aw, Kitty, I..." Suddenly Matt's eyes widened in surprise and he shouted, "Look out!" heaving her out of harm's way. In an instant, Buford Hick's body was hurtling through the air down the stairs, arms outstretched, lungs bellowing, aiming for Kitty. Luckily, he missed and went sailing over the bannister into the barroom instead. He landed abruptly in the middle of a high-stakes poker game where tempers had already been frayed beyond endurance. The poker players leapt to their feet, rudely gesturing and cursing, and began to take out their frustrations on the ill-fated Hicks, whose unbuttoned pants were now somewhere in the vicinity of his knees and his union suit in a sad state of disrepair, an especially unfortunate circumstance for the hapless onlookers.

Matt, closing his slack jaw, looked down and saw Cletus and Lionel at the foot of the stairs, apparently exchanging heated words with those trouble-making Lazy J cowhands, Simon Dooley and Junk Kelley. Dooley and Kelley were pointing angrily toward Matt and Kitty and down again at their fallen comrade Buford who now lay at the bottom of a heap of flailing gamblers, which meant only one thing. The jig was up. "Aw, hell..." Matt grumbled as he latched tightly onto Kitty's hand.

Kelley threw the first punch. It was all over after that. The Lazy J boys started whaling the daylights out of the Sweetwater cowpokes, the gamblers tried their darndest to teach Buford Hicks to never again interrupt an important game of chance while the remainder of the Rusty Nail patrons made the valiant decision to join in the fight as a point of honor. The entire room erupted with frenzied fisticuffs, smashing glassware and splintering furniture, much to the dismay of one Mr. Elzey Royce Nance, proprietor of the finest, albeit only, drinking establishment in town.

From his vantage point on the staircase, Matt gave a world-weary sigh, wincingly regarding the roiling, pugilistic crowd below. Gazing contemplatively at his relatively delicate female companion by his side, he threw his hands up. Then he gave her his best charming smile and apologetic look before hollering over the commotion, "Hold on, sweetheart!" Without a warning, he threw her unceremoniously over his shoulder and proceeded down the stairs to elbow his way through the disgraceful brouhaha, shoving and swearing and punching with his one free arm until he carried Kitty Russell safely through the front doors.

When he plunked her down on the street outside, she was speechless, breathless, and quite stunned. Kitty just stood there for a moment with her mouth hanging open, and then Matt kissed her. Right there in front of the saloon on the main thoroughfare, even though there really was no one to witness it except the town's two stray pooches, he kissed her on the mouth, big as life. He kissed her long and warm and so sweetly, she felt her knees start to give out.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed and grabbed her around the waist. "You alright?"

"I think so," she said in a dazed voice. "All this business has taken the starch right outta me, I'm afraid."

"That's perfectly understandable," Matt smiled. "Let's get outta here. And this time I mean it."

"What about Lionel and Cletus?" she asked anxiously, touching his sleeve.

"Oh, those two love a good fight. They can take care of themselves, believe me." He mounted his horse and reached down for her hand. "But you're ridin' with me, little lady. Let's go."

tbc

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	9. Chapter 9

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 9

"Bossman Returns"

"I know you're in there, you young rapscallions!"

Matt's eyes shot open while he sat bolt upright from his pallet on the hard wooden floor. An insistent pounding at the door sounded for the second time. "Boss," Matt muttered ominously, his voice gravelly with sleep.

The door swung open wide, the gray light of dawn filtering into the room with Leland Blessing's heavy, booted footsteps. Cletus and Lionel dully sat up in their beds, eyes half closed, scratching and yawning, but casting a wary eye on Matt's blanket-curtained bunk across the room. Henry finally raised up, fisting the sleep from his eyes at last when the ranch owner bellowed, "Frank McWharter! Sun's nearly up! Why in the name of my Aunt Minerva's garters are you still abed?"

"Sorry, Mr. Blessing!" Matt leapt up and began jerking his pants on over his long underwear. "Guess we overslept."

The other hands scrambled out of bed and quickly followed suit while Blessing eyed Matt curiously. "What are you doin' sleepin' on the blasted floor, Matthew?"

"Uh... I..." Matt's sleep-fogged brain was unable to supply a quick response as he struggled to button his pants, nearly tripping over his own feet. "I was..."

Frank, combing his fingers through his unruly hair, quickly volunteered, "His back, sir. His back was painin' him somethin' fierce last night."

"Is that a fact?" Blessing eyed Matt askance.

Matt exclaimed, "Well, sir, we're burnin' daylight! We'd all best get to work now..."

Something caught Blessing's eye and his voice rang out incredulously, "What in tarnation?" Hanging off the end of Matt's bunk was a soft, satiny, red-spangled dress which Leland Blessing gingerly held aloft between two work-calloused fingers. "What kinda' shenanigans have you hooligans been up to?"

Matt pressed his lips together, squinting one eye thoughtfully. "I... I can explain, sir..."

Blessing ignored him and reached for the blanket which curtained off Matt's bed. "Son, if you can explain, you'd dadgum well best commence doin' it now."

Matt held his breath as Blessing pulled away the blanket and revealed a beautiful young girl with hair the color of a July sunrise sitting in her underdrawers on Matthew Dillon's bed.

She wore a wry look on her face and tugged the worn quilt more tightly around her shoulders. Then she spoke calmly in greeting, "Mr. Blessing..." One corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly.

Leland Blessing's jaw dropped, and for the first time the boys could ever recall, he was utterly speechless.

At that moment, quiet Henry bravely spoke up, "This...this here's Miss Kitty Russell, Mr. Blessing. She's a real n...nice girl, sir. She...she ain't done n...nothin' wrong, honest." The others stared at him in astonishment. In contrast to their boss's current dumbstruck state, it was the most words they'd ever heard out of Henry Small strung together on one occasion.

Leland gazed curiously at Henry with the others until he shook his head to clear it. Suddenly he found his tongue, "Hell's bells, Matthew!"

Kitty jumped to Matt's defense, "Mr. Blessing, Matt was just helping me out, sir. I didn't have a..."

Leland held up a hand, "Young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I think this here matter is between me and my insubordinate employees. You are a...female and seem to currently be at a disadvantage due to your state of..." Leland swallowed and eyed Matt again. "...undress...so I am going to ask my boys to step outside with me so that you can put yourself to rights." Leland Blessing heaved a great sigh and blustered, "You rascals, come with me right this minute before I say some things I shouldn't in front of this young girl."

"Yessir," the boys sheepishly murmured as their boss held open the door, waiting for them to pass through in single file like naughty schoolboys. Blessing followed, beckoning to them sternly, "Come far away from that window. I don't want none of you tryin' to peep in while a lady is dressing, boys."

"Yessir," they answered again as they gathered in a huddle, hands in pockets, a suitable distance from the bunkhouse.

Boss was pacing back and forth, stewing over this unforeseen turn of events. He held his hands aloft, barking, "I've a mind to fire ever last one of you and throw that girl out on her pretty little ear." The five friends watched as their employer paced some more, rubbing his hand over his bristly face. Then he spoke again at last, slowly, thoughtfully. "Now, boys, I remember what it was like to be a randy young man..."

Cletus jumped in, "Aw, Boss, it wasn't nuthin' like that, honest!"

Lionel quickly added, "Matt was just givin' her a place to lay her head, sir!"

"Do you take me for an idiot? That dog won't hunt! I saw that painted lady's dress layin' there on Matthew's bunk."

Frank idly scratched his belly, conceding, "Matt, that did look purty bad, I admit." Matt gave his friend a withering glance as he continued, "But, Boss, you know Matt! Would he do somethin' harebrained like bring a sportin' woman out here when he knows how you feel, sir? Matt's a better man than all the rest of us hands put together! Even if he does like to go on a rip-snortin' bender ever once in a while. He's only human, Boss..."

Leland Blessing threw up his hands. "Boys, get yourselves to work. Now."

They all breathed a sigh of relief and did a rapid about-face.

"Except you, Matthew. I don't think I'm gonna get the whole story until you and I have us a little set down, son."

"Yessir, Mr. Blessing."

While the other four walked slowly toward the barn, casting worried glances over their shoulders, the ranch owner's bow-legged gait aimed for a fallen log amid a shady grove of trees beside the bunkhouse. Stiffly he lowered himself and spat behind him. He slapped the log beside him. "Set here, boy."

Sitting where his boss had indicated, Matt leaned his forearms on his knees and waited patiently. He knew he had some explaining to do, but he'd let Mr. Blessing do the talking first.

"Son, do you know what kinda trouble you can get into with those fancy women? You could end up with the French pox for one."

Matt looked him straight in the eye. "Sir, it isn't what you think, honest."

Blessing pushed his gray Stetson back on his forehead with one beefy finger. "Well, what in hellfire is it then?"

"She's not a workin' girl, sir."

"What about that dress? Ain't no decent woman wears a dress like that!"

"That's not really her dress, Mr. Blessing. She just borrowed it cause she only had the clothes on her back and no money and she had to get a job. There was only one job available, at the Rusty Nail, and she was desperate so she took it. But she couldn't go through with it, sir. That's cause she's not that kinda' girl. Don't ya' see?"

Blessing squinted thoughtfully at him, plucking a blade of grass to place between his teeth. "That's an original story, I have to admit. In all my years, I've never heard that one before. You wanna expand on that story? Cause right this minute you got an unshucked girl in your bed, Matthew."

Matt took a deep breath, looked the ranch owner squarely in the eye, and told him the whole story, from the street dustup when he'd first met Kitty Russell and managed to knock her out cold, through the job search in Brushy Heap and finally how he'd rescued her in the nick of time from Buford Hicks.

"Buford Hicks?" Blessing exclaimed distastefully. "With that little ol' gal?" He nodded his head in the direction of the bunkhouse. "I wouldn't wish that sonofabitch on my worst enemy! Crimony!"

"This mornin', you asked me why I was sleepin' on the floor, sir, and that's the reason."

"Well, if I'da heard it from anyone but you, I'da thought you were stringin' a whizzer, big as life. But you're as honest as the day is long, Matthew."

"I wanted to help her out, Boss. She's like me—she doesn't have any family to look after her. I don't want her to have to work at the Rusty Nail, sir."

Blessing absently scratched at his sandpapery jaw, muttering, "I may be a mean old cuss, but I...well... Go get your girlfriend and bring her to me, Matthew. I need to talk a spell with her."

Without another word, Matt jumped up from the log and skedaddled to the bunkhouse, knocking loudly. "You decent?"

The door cracked and she peeped out at him. "As decent as I'll ever be in a dress that's way too small for me."

"Boss wants to talk to you!"

"Uh-oh." She curled her lip at him. "What's that mean?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think it might be good."

She narrowed her eyes at him thoughtfully. "What makes you think that? He might just wanna give me a piece of his mind."

"I don't think so, Kitty. Mr. Blessing is a good man." Matt's eyes roved down her figure and he bit his lip anxiously. "I sure wish you had somethin' else to wear though."

She put a hand on her hip and pursed her lips at him.

"I know, I know... I myself do like your dress an awful lot though." His eyes wandered over her again while he added distractedly, "A whole lot..." He shook himself from his reverie. "But to talk to Boss... Wait a minute..."

He ducked past her into the bunkhouse, rummaging in a rickety bureau drawer until he came out with an extra shirt. His nice, clean dress shirt. "Put this on," he instructed, and helped her shrug it over her shoulders and button it up the front.

"Help me roll up the sleeves," she said, struggling with the voluminous fabric.

After tucking and folding, he held her at arm's length and then exclaimed, "Let's go!" Grabbing her by the hand, he led her back to where Mr. Blessing patiently sat, chewing on his grass blade.

The ranch owner narrowed one eye against the sun as he looked up at her, "Nice shirt."

"Thanks, I think I might have to grow into it though." She stretched out her arms to show him the rolled sleeves.

Blessing barked out a laugh. "Matthew here says you need a job. That true?"

"Yes, sir, I most certainly do."

"Can you cook?"

Matt nudged her with an elbow, volunteering, "Sure, she can! Why, I bet Kitty bakes up the fluffiest, lightest biscuits you ever tasted in your whole entire life."

Blessing warned, "Matthew, I've never known you for a liar. Now's not the time to pick up the habit. Let her do the talkin'."

Kitty nodded matter-of-factly. "I can cook, sir."

"I've got a cook right now, but he's pretty lousy at his job to tell you the unvarnished, gospel truth. You think you could work with him to feed a passel of hungry young men? I warn ya', they nearly eat me outta house and home."

"I think I can do that, Mr. Blessing."

"I can't pay you much, but I could let you live in a little bitty, one-room cabin, not far from here. Me and the Missus started out in that place when we first settled here."

Kitty smiled, asking politely, "You're married, Mr. Blessing?"

Leland Blessing's eyes got a faraway look in them for just a moment, but then he focused, saying quickly and simply, "Widowed. When can you start?"

"Why, now, of course, Mr. Blessing. I don't have anyplace to go."

"Right. You can't work in those clothes though. You don't have anything else...?"

"I only have this, sir, and it's borrowed so I have to return it soon... My regular dress in is town."

His faded gray eyes looked thoughtfully into hers for a moment, sizing her up, it seemed to her. Her return gaze was unflinching. Then he instructed, "You come with me to the house. I've got some things you might be able to wear."

"Thank you, Mr. Blessing," she said gratefully.

He suddenly noticed Matt, grinning from ear to ear. "Matthew, don't you have some work to do? I'm not payin' you to stand around all day long!"

"Yessir!" Matt exclaimed as he touched Kitty's shoulder and then took off lickety-split for the barn.

tbc

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	10. Chapter 10

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 10

"Mr. and Mrs. Blessing"

Delicate little yellow flowers against a pale green background-that was the pattern of the wallpaper in the small, sunlit bedroom where Mr. Blessing led Kitty. A room decorated by a woman's hand, that's for certain, she thought. She simply couldn't picture Matt's boss purchasing that butter yellow spread, faded yet still serviceable, which covered a mattress topped by ruffled, embroidered pillows against a painted white metal bedframe. Blessing didn't utter a word as they entered. He knelt with a groan in front of a large cedar chest at the bed's foot, the lid creaking in protest as if it hadn't been opened in quite some time. The rancher carefully set aside folded quilts and other smaller items that appeared to be clothing. He hesitated for a moment, staring at the contents silently, and finally puffed a long breath out through his nose. He smoothed his big hand gently across folded butternut fabric.

"Young lady, how 'bout I just let you look through these dresses and other women's things...?" He trailed off delicately, then added, "You can take whatever you need."

Kitty, throat tight, wondered if the things in the trunk had belonged to his late wife. "Are you sure, sir? I don't have to..."

"No..." He rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully, avoiding her gaze. "I'd be right pleased if these things were of some use to you." Stiffly hauling himself back to his feet by leaning heavily on the corner of the chest full of old memories, he softly added, "Miss, I'll be in the front room if you need me."

He pulled the door closed silently behind him, and Kitty knelt in the spot Blessing had vacated. She touched the butternut fabric. Unfolding it, she discovered it was a utilitarian dress, nothing fancy, but just right for working in the kitchen, she thought. She shook it out and held it up against her body appraisingly. Not bad at all. It might fit pretty well, although the sleeves looked a bit long. She stood before the large round mirror of the cherrywood vanity with the dress held tightly against her, a lump in her throat as she pondered the woman who had worn this dress before her, perhaps gazed at her own reflection in this very same mirror.

Kitty speculated how long ago Mrs. Blessing may have passed away. The dress did appear old-fashioned in its silhouette and styling, but Kitty had to remind herself that she was currently thirty years in the past, a fact which she still hadn't quite been able to wrap her mind around. Perhaps Mr. Blessing had lost his wife long ago. This harsh prairie living was not kind to women, Kitty was well aware, and there were so many ways a person's life might be cruelly snatched away in an instant out here. She wondered if Mr. Blessing still suffered sharp pangs of grief for his wife or if time had mercifully dulled his pain. Kitty held the dress to her nose, breathing in, but all she could detect was the clean, woodsy scent of cedar pine- no ghostly, feminine traces of lemon verbena or rosewater lingered within its folds.

Glancing down, she saw an enameled brush and comb set, lying on a small hand mirror coated in dust, but looking for all the world as if Mr. Blessing expected his wife to return any day. Then she noticed a lovely little china hair receiver sitting on a crocheted white lace doily, yellowed with age. Kitty held her breath, opening the lid so very carefully, wondering what she would find, and, sure enough, inside she discovered strands of dark brown hair, their luster dulled with time. Suddenly feeling guilty, she replaced the lid, careful not to make a sound.

Releasing a melancholy sigh, she trod across creaking wooden floorboards to the trunk to see if there were long petticoats and "other women's things," as Mr. Blessing had tactfully put it, which would get her through until she was earning honest wages and could afford to purchase her own clothing. Then her hand touched soft linen and lace, and she held up a baby's small gown, smocked and embroidered with little buds and leaves, a tiny ribbon tacked to the collar, and Kitty wondered where Mr. Blessing's child was now.

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Wearing the butternut dress, Kitty emerged from the bedroom into the front parlor, dimly lit because the heavy, forest green drapes had been pulled against the morning sun. Backlit as she was, Mr. Blessing stared hard for a moment at her appearance. He appeared to shake himself mentally when she stepped closer, giving her a somewhat dazed smile. Stuttering a bit, he tried to cover his startled reaction, "S...see there... It fits perty good, don't it, Miss Russell?"

"Mr. Blessing, are you sure you don't mind me wearing these things? I know it might be difficult for you, seeing them again." She gently and self-consciously smoothed the front of the dress. "This is your late wife's, isn't it, sir?"

His lips curved slightly, surprised again that this young slip of a girl had intuited his jumbled emotions. "Miss Russell, it would please her to know that they were bein' put to good use."

"Kitty, sir."

"'Kitty', then, child." He gave her a satisfied smile, his gaze taking in the dress that he hadn't laid eyes on since his wife had last worn it. "Did you find everything you needed?" He gestured to a chair opposite his own.

She seated herself in a delicate wingback chair with clawed feet, upholstered in burgundy and green floral fabric, which was in direct contrast to the sturdy, studded leather chair where Mr. Blessing sat, dog-eared book in hand, spectacles on his nose. Both chairs were set close to the fireplace, and she realized with a start that this must have been where he and his wife had spent their quiet time together.

The plaster walls were lined with dark, wooden bookshelves. Kitty had never seen so many books in one place. Shelves and shelves of handsome leather-bound volumes with gilt lettering, some appearing very old, others newer.

"Yes, I did find everything I needed, Mr. Blessing." She smoothed her hair back with one hand, self-conscious that she'd not had the time or the necessary supplies to arrange her hair to her usual standards, but then suddenly she remembered her fresh-faced, flawless reflection from the mirror and thought better of it. She happily realized she looked just fine. "Mr. Blessing, I want to let you know how much I appreciate you hiring me like this. I, uh,...I realize you don't know me at all and you're taking a chance on me. But I won't let you down."

Blessing's gray eyes sparkled, "Well, I think young Matthew is mighty taken with you. I think he trusts you, and he's a purty good judge of character."

"Yes, he is," she answered with a knowing smile, then glanced around the room appreciatively. "You have a lovely home, Mr. Blessing." It was simple yet well-built, tastefully decorated yet comfortable and homey. She admired the heavy, exposed beams in the ceiling and the wide-plank floors, the floor to ceiling windows and the expansive front porch fronted by simple square wooden columns painted white.

"Much obliged, Kitty, but..." He hesitated thoughtfully. "I just built the house. Mrs. Blessing's the one who turned it into a home." Then he clapped his hands on his knees abruptly and leaned forward. "Would you like to see where you'll be working? There's a cookshack out back, a little ways from the main house, and you can serve there or in the dining room. Cookie usually serves out back. You'll have to meet him, too. I'll send Matthew to show you the cabin later. How's that sound?"

Kitty smiled, suddenly enormously grateful that she wasn't working upstairs at the Rusty Nail Saloon with a sweaty, dirty stranger groaning atop her. She shuddered and felt slightly sick at the thought. Kitty would be happy to bake biscuits for a passel of ravenous young cowboys if that's what it took to keep her off her back. "Yes, sir, I sure am ready. And that's a fact."

tbc

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	11. Chapter 11

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 11

"Cookie"

Leland Blessing held the creaky screen door to the cook shack open for Kitty to enter. The small, dimly-lit, primitive kitchen with a heavy cast iron stove and pinewood cupboards stacked haphazardly with dirty cooking utensils and cloth bags of food staples seemed to be deserted, but she detected a faint muttering sound from across the room. It seemed to be coming from beneath the table.

"Cookie!" Mr. Blessing bellowed, making Kitty jump.

Suddenly a tall, wiry man sat bolt upright from where he'd been lying on his back on the wooden plank bench out of sight. Unfortunately, in the process he soundly banged his head on the edge of the table. The man, who had a shock of black curly hair and matching thick, black eyebrows groaned, holding a hand to his injured pate. "Yes, sir?" he sighed long-sufferingly, shaking his head and widening his dark brown eyes. "You called?"

"What in tarnation?" Mr. Blessing muttered, hands on hips. "What on earth are you a'doin', son?"

Cookie raised his impressive eyebrows. "I was just, um..." He waved a sheet of paper he was holding aloft. "...writing. You see, sir, I was writing a letter."

Kitty choked back a laugh, finally noticing the small jar of black ink on the table and the pen clutched between Cookie's long, ink-stained fingers.

"It don't look like you were doin' too much writin' to me. It looks more like you were takin' you a little _siesta_, boy."

Cookie raked his fingers through his riotous hair. "No, really, Mr. Blessing. Honest, I was just...thinking. About what to say." He nodded firmly. "In my letter."

"You're writin' that gal, ain't ya', Cookie?"

Cookie began to nod his head but Mr. Blessing cut him off short with a hand in the air. "I think it might behoove you to do some cookin', son, instead of moonin' over that girl in Beaver Township. Dinnertime will be here before you know it. And I'm not payin' you to compose love sonnets."

"You are correct. I will..." He laid down his letter and dusted off his big hands. "...get a move on. Yessiree."

Blessing shook his head, then gestured to Kitty. "Well, before you get yourself too awful fired up, young man, I want you to meet somebody. This here's Miss Kitty Russell, and I'm puttin' her to work with you right here in the kitchen."

Cookie's bushy brows rose skyward again. "With...with me?"

"Yep, you heard me."

"Miss Russell, you say?"

Kitty gave a little wave of her fingers, smiling cautiously. "You can call me Kitty. And I don't wanna step on your toes, Cookie. I'm just here to help you out."

"No...no...I'm glad for the help, really." Cookie pulled thoughtfully on his lower lip.

Blessing sighed again and muttered quietly in her ear, "See if you cain't do somethin' with this boy. I hate to fire him, but he's been pretty consounded useless since he fell head over heels, if you ask me. Whip him into shape for me, why don't ya'?"

Kitty scrutinized the wiry young man who looked to be nearly as tall as Matt Dillon. Blessing gave her a surreptitious wink and headed for the door, calling loudly, "See ya' at dinnertime, Cookie. You take care of this here young girl for me, now. Show her the ropes, okay?"

"Yes, sir, I sure will," Cookie called, index finger in the air. "I'll teach her everything I know."

"That won't take long," Blessing muttered under his breath as he closed the door behind himself.

Kitty put a hand over her mouth and coughed to stifle a laugh that bubbled up in her chest at the older man's wry remark. Then she gave a friendly smile to her new working companion. "So what would you like me to do, Cookie?"

"Do?" He was staring at the sheet of paper lying on the table. "Do?" he repeated distractedly. "Oh! Yeah, dinner. Let's see, the beans are already cooking on the stove."

"Beans, huh? Bacon, too?" She gave him a lopsided smile and squinted one eye thoughtfully. "And let me guess...cornpone, right?"

"Yep! My specialty. How'd you guess?"

"Just lucky." Kitty walked around the room, examining the items in the cupboards, running her finger along the cornmeal-dusted countertops. "Say, did you ever think about mixin' things up a little? Maybe..." She stopped to look at him, placing her hands on her hips. "...bakin' some, oh... biscuits instead?"

"Biscuits?"

"Instead of cornpone. You know—a little flour, some baking powder and salt, a touch of lard and some buttermilk?"

"Well, I...uh..."

"You got buttermilk around here, Cookie?"

"Well, sure. We got cows..."

"And?"

"Well, I've, uh..." Cookie's olive complexion flushed dark red on his cheeks. He mumbled something unintelligible.

Kitty stepped closer and said, "I'm sorry? I didn't catch that."

Cookie pursed his full, wide lips and stated bluntly, "I've never baked biscuits before."

"How can you be a cook on a ranch and not know how to make biscuits?" Kitty asked in amazement.

"I never said I was a _good_ cook." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled winsomely.

Kitty found an apron and tied it around her waist. Then she set to industriously scrubbing off a countertop with a rag. "Well, you gotta start somewhere. I'm not the best cook in the world, mind you..." She threw a look over her shoulder at the long-legged, rangy man. "But I can teach you how to make decent biscuits. I think the cowboys here are white-bread starved."

"They told you that?"

"Not in so many words."

"They talk about my cooking?" He shook his head in utter resignation. "See, my ma was right! She always said, 'Never trust a skinny cook.' It's true. I'm no good!"

"Aw, give yourself a chance to branch out, Cookie." Kitty stopped in her tracks. "Say, that's not your real name, is it?"

"How'd you know?"

"Just another wild guess. And you're not from around here, either. Not with that accent."

Cookie stuck his big, ink-stained hand out toward her to shake. "Freddie Fiore. New York City."

Kitty laid down her rag and placed her damp hand firmly in his. "I might a' known. Glad to meet ya', Freddie. Now tell me about this girl of yours."

tbc

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	12. Chapter 12

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 12

"Dinnertime"

"Good god-a-mighty, Cookie, it's hotter in here than a whorehouse on nickel night!" Frank McWharter exclaimed as he entered the cook shack, removing his hat and fanning it in front of his face.

Thoughtful young Henry Small followed, urgently elbowing his dark-haired companion. Yanking off his own hat, he glanced at Kitty standing by the stove while anxiously whispering, "There's a...a...l-lady present, Frank!"

"Oh! Beg your pardon, Miss Kitty! I forgot you was startin' work today. I..." Frank froze mid-sentence and stared down at the table, as did Henry and the other hands as they entered one by one.

Sandy-haired Lionel began, "Holy sh..." while Matt expeditiously whacked him on the arm.

Scratching his freckled nose, Cletus Hoke gaped in wonder at the dishes set before him: a platter of thick, juicy steaks, a pot of beans cooked with bacon, a huge bowlful of well-seasoned turnip greens, and piping hot, golden brown biscuits with speckledy white milk gravy, steam rising over the bowl.

"You boys hungry?" Kitty's voice brought them all out of their reverie for a moment, and the remainder quickly removed their hats while she wiped her hands on her apron.

Lionel asked in starry-eyed wonderment, "Have I done died and gone straight to heaven?"

Matt grinned knowingly at Kitty, "I don't think so, boys, but let's say we eat before somebody changes their minds and gives this grub to somebody else."

Kitty smiled warily, eyeing their grimy hands. "Have you all washed up yet?"

Five jaws dropped open. "No, Miss..." they all chorused dejectedly with drooping shoulders, trooping briskly outside to the water pump. Kitty handed a bar of strong lye soap to Matt as he ducked out the door last, following his friends, while she clucked her tongue. She whispered to Freddie, "See, what'd I tell you? You just need to mix things up. Don't always feed 'em the same thing. They get tired of it."

"Thanks, Kitty. I appreciate it. I owe you one."

"Well, I just hope you don't think I'm butting in where I don't belong," she admitted straightforwardly.

"Oh, no! I really am very grateful for your help." He gave a chagrined smile. "To tell the truth, I was a little worried when the boss man brought you in here. I was afraid I was about to lose my job."

"I don't think Mr. Blessing is that kind of man. He's just doing me a favor—giving a girl who's down on her luck an honest job."

"Well, I, for one, am glad he took you on."

"Thanks, Freddie." She patted him on the shoulder. "Now what do you say we move this table out back under the shade tree? It _is_ hotter than a..."

She paused as Freddie's glance shot to her, his upper lip curling in surprise.

Kitty snorted, wiping her perspiring forehead with her apron tail, and finished instead, "Well, you know..."

Freddie Fiore choked out a laugh. "Whatever you say, my dear. Your wish is my command." He called out to Lionel and Cletus, who were already heading eagerly back inside. "Boys, grab a corner and let's drag this table outside where it's cooler. We may have to take off the dishes and turn it sideways to fit it out the door..." Everyone grabbed their own place setting, stowing the serving bowls on the sideboard, then angled the table to move it outdoors where the cookstove thankfully hadn't been blasting heat all day.

Kitty busied herself carrying heavy platters of food outside where a cool breeze brushed her face, making her close her eyes in appreciation while she released a grateful sigh. The scent of a nearby lilac bush wafted on the air while the sun shone warmly on her face. Her blissful musings were interrupted when she felt someone lift the plate of biscuits from her hands. It was Matt. "Sit by me?" he asked with a little smile that crinkled the corners of his blue eyes.

"Sure," she answered, biting her lip. "Say, doesn't Mr. Blessing come eat with you boys?"

Frank was the one who answered, "Nah, he don't eat with us. I think he likes a little peace and quiet, to tell you the truth. These characters can get pretty rowdy. Not me, o' course..."

Lionel Byrd cut Frank's remark short with a smack on the back of his head which precipitated a minor skirmish between the two cowhands.

Freddie, ignoring their shenanigans, added, "Boss usually comes in a little later and has a bite by himself."

Cletus urged, "Come on, I don't know about you all, but I'm so hungry I could eat a blame horse!"

Gesturing, Matt urged, "Sit down, Kitty, before it gets cold."

Kitty asked, "Is there room for one extra at the table? I don't wanna crowd you."

As he settled himself on the bench, Frank offered slyly, patting his knee, "Miss Kitty, little lady, you can come sit right here on my lap if there ain't enough room."

Kitty started to toss back a suitably tart reply when Matt beat her to the punch. "Now why would she wanna sit with the likes of you when she can sit over here by me, McWharter?"

Kitty laughed along with the other hands as she removed her apron and parked herself right up next to Matt Dillon on the bench, reveling in the feel of him so close again. She tilted her head back and gave him a pleased smile as she smoothed back the errant curls that'd escaped during her hours of working in the hot kitchen.

Matt surprised her when he reached out and rubbed his fingertips across her right cheek. "Flour," he said by way of explanation, a twinkle in his eye.

"I was sure slingin' it," she explained, chuckling when the cowhands dug into the serving dishes with complete abandon.

"Hey, Cookie, how much of this here meal did you make?" Cletus demanded as he planted a fork in the platter of steaks.

Kitty quickly volunteered, "Why, he made every last bit of it!"

Freddie choked on his turnip greens, grabbing his coffee cup to slurp down a drink. Then he laughed, "I'll have you know, I made a valid contribution to every last dish on this table, gentlemen!"

Lionel held a biscuit aloft in the palm of his hand admiringly. "Look at that, fellers! I bet it's as good as any Joe Huckabee ever baked in his café."

Matt chuffed out a laugh. "Well, why don't you put your dadgum teeth in it and find out, Lionel?"

Lionel plaintively asked, "Can somebody please pass me the gravy? That shore looks like fine gravy, Miss."

Frank took a deep draw from his coffee cup, "And this sure ain't the bellywash that Cookie usually serves up. Kitty, I think I love you." " He waggled his eyebrows at her rakishly.

Matt frowned disconcertedly at Frank, but Frank waved him off with a grin. "Aw, don't worry about me none, Dillon. I can already see this purty little gal ain't got eyes for nobody but you. I'm no competition for a big, strong man like yourself!" Frank demonstrated by bending his arm and flexing a muscle.

Kitty bit her lip to keep from laughing and sneaked a glance over at Matt while he groused, "Aw, go boil your shirt, McWharter."

Cletus complained, "This is the best damn food—beggin' yer pardon, Miss—that we've had in a coon's age, and you two cain't find anything to do but gripe and bellyache and go after each other like two roosters in a henhouse." He scooped a big forkful of beans and bacon into his mouth for good effect, shaking his head in befuddlement. Then he paused mid-shovel, mouth full, asking, "What're we havin' fer supper, Miss?" He looked around and swallowed as everyone at the table collapsed in laughter. "If you don't mind my askin'?" He grinned sheepishly at Kitty, and she smiled happily back. Then she closed her eyes contentedly as she felt Matt's warm hand squeeze her wrist under the table. It had been a fine day already, and it was only halfway over.

tbc

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	13. Chapter 13

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 13

"The Cabin"

Stepping over the threshold, the interior of the thick-walled, dimly lit little cabin was cool and hushed and still. As she entered the slightly musty space, Kitty held her breath and treaded quietly, although she wasn't exactly sure why. This place certainly wasn't what she'd anticipated when Mr. Blessing had told her she was welcome to stay at his old cabin.

Earlier on the ride from the main ranch house, the breeze had stirred the tall prairie grass dotted with wildflowers while the heat of the sun had shone down warmly on Matt and Kitty's head and shoulders. Ever the gentleman even at this relatively unseasoned age, Kitty thought, smiling, Matt had helped her down from their dappled gray horse, thankfully this time more sedately, sparing her belly and whirling head. She'd discovered the big, sturdy horse was aptly named Smoky. And Matt had insisted they once again share the mount just to save time on saddling an extra, he'd claimed. She'd seen Mr. Blessing rub his nose and chuckle knowingly at this pronouncement when he'd asked Matt to escort Kitty to her new home, and she herself was not fooled an iota by Matt's declared motive.

Although it was awkward getting situated in the saddle, in the end it was delicious to be pressed so closely to her young admirer who acted as though they had only just met, her back flush against his chest, his impressively corded arms engulfing her as he gripped the leather reins. She'd had to resist the urge to slowly and sensuously slide her hands over his muscled thighs, as she was pretty sure this polite young man would think her a bit forward to make such advances.

This young Matt didn't remember the many long, heated nights they'd spent—sweaty, naked arms and legs tangled sinuously after a breathless, passionate tumble in the tousled sheets. The thought made it even more titillating to her senses to have his length pressed so tightly against her own, the rocking gait of the horse making her brush against him in an intimate rhythm that made her head reel just a little. She'd been forced to content herself with just the merest touch of her hand on his arm. She thrilled when he returned her gesture with a squeeze of her waist, and she released a little involuntary, frustrated sigh of longing.

When they'd arrived at their destination, Matt had also insisted on entering the cabin first to make certain there were no unwelcome visitors like snakes or possums or skunks that'd taken up temporary residence, and for that she hadn't objected, not one little bit. She'd had her share of run-ins with varmints in the past, and Kitty had no desire whatsoever to come face-to-face with any form of wildlife worse than your average Texas cowboy. It had taken little time for Matt to search the interior of the diminutive home and call the all clear. He pulled back the heavy curtains on one of the two windows, and the early afternoon light illuminated the room, dust motes dancing in the slanting rays.

The one-room dwelling had genuinely caught her by surprise. She didn't know what she'd been expecting, but it hadn't been this. Kitty had thought perhaps Mr. Blessing's former home was a worn down, neglected building maybe even in need of a little repair, but this place didn't fit what she'd had in her mind's eye, not at all.

The room was clean and looked as if it still contained the very furnishings that he and his wife had used many years ago. She'd wondered why Mr. Blessing had told her not to worry when she explained somewhat sheepishly that she didn't have any belongings of her own to pack and take with her. She'd fretted about what he'd think of her when he found out she truly didn't have a possession in the world, not even the clothes on her back at this point. But her kind new employer didn't say a word, didn't ask her any awkward questions. He'd just reassured her matter-of-factly that she didn't need anything, and from the looks of this cozy little place, she truly wouldn't. Just like the bedroom she'd changed clothing in earlier, this cabin seemed somehow frozen in time, a place where the memory of his beloved late wife remained. Kitty gave a little shiver as she walked around investigating.

A small stone fireplace served as the sole source of heat and a place to cook meals as well. There was a little kitchen table and cupboard containing blue speckled enamel dishes and cookware. Nearby was a narrow wooden washstand with a stoneware bowl and pitcher and even towels and washcloths stacked underneath. Kitty touched the faded but clean yellow, green and cream patchwork quilt lying across the heavy wooden bed. The frame appeared as if it had been hand-crafted, and she speculated whether Mr. Blessing had made the bed for his wife. There was an old trunk at the end of the bed, and Kitty wondered what it contained. Did it hold more of the late Mrs. Blessing's possessions?

She walked over to a small oval mirror hanging on the wall next to the bed and was once again startled by her own appearance. Her face was over a quarter of a century younger, she realized. _A quarter of a century._ That was a hell of a long time, she thought with chagrin.

Matt's equally young face appearing in the mirror behind her startled Kitty from her musings. He pensively asked, "How do you like it?"

"I like it just fine," she smiled appreciatively, turning to face him. "I...I guess I didn't expect quite so much. I thought it'd at least require a little cleanin' up after all the years that Mr. Blessing has been living in his big ranch house. Or at least I suspect he's been livin' there quite a while."

"Yeah, he has been, but he also keeps this place up."

Kitty watched Matt's eyes slowly and appreciatively sweep over her figure in Mrs. Blessing's old-fashioned, butternut-colored dress, not the most flattering shade for her coloring she realized, but Matt didn't seem to mind any, she observed. She asked curiously, "Does he let guests stay here sometimes?"

"Nope," Matt quickly replied, frowning as he gingerly touched her bruised jaw. "Or at least not since I've been workin' here." He raised his brows and rubbed his chin. "Mr. Blessing must like you since he's asked you to stay here."

"Hunh." Kitty was a bit nonplussed.

"I see him come out here sometimes. By himself."

She observed quietly, "He must've really loved her."

"What?"

"Mrs. Blessing. His wife. He must miss her, Matt."

"Yeah, I'm sure you're right." He went and peeked inside a cupboard door, then glanced at her. "He's never remarried. Never looks at another woman as far as I've seen."

Her eyes were sad. "Do you know how long she's been gone?"

"Gone?"

"When did she die, Matt?

"I'm not sure, Kitty. I think she died a while back. He doesn't talk about it much. Say, Kitty..." Matt removed his hat and scratched his head. "I was wonderin'..."

The change in the tone of his voice piqued her curiosity. "Yeah?"

"There's a...a barn dance at the edge of town Saturday night."

She gave a tiny, hopeful smile and perched on the edge of the old bed. "Yes, Matt?"

He hemmed and hawed a little. "Well, you see, uh...the Widow Elder is throwin' a party."

"A party, huh?" She tugged at a tiny curl hanging in front of her ear and twisted it idly around her finger. "What's the occasion?"

"Mr. Elder died."

"And his widow is havin' a party?" She curled her lip in surprise.

"Well, the circumstances of his death were a little...uh...questionable." He raised his brows at her.

"Questionable? But she's celebrating?"

"See, he fell out of the hayloft."

"Of the barn where she's havin' the party?" Kitty's voice was incredulous.

"Yep."

She shook her head and leaned back, bracing herself on her arms.

"Yeah, uh, seems he was drunker'n Cootie Brown."

"Oh, well, maybe that's a little more under..."

Matt held his index finger in the air, interrupting her. "And..." He paused and she noticed his ears turning a little pink. "He was up in the hayloft with Minnie Lou Hardcastle."

"Ohhhh—I really see now." She nodded her head sagely.

"Yeah, it broke his neck instantly, they say."

She commented drily, "And if the fall hadn't, I'm sure the Widow Elder woulda broke it for him. With her bare hands."

"Yep." Matt pressed his lips together decisively. "Nobody much liked Ernest Elder anyway. He was a mean old son of a..." He caught himself. "He wasn't a very nice fella."

"Apparently Minnie Lou didn't agree."

He chuffed out a laugh and his eyes twinkled at her. "Apparently not." Matt liked Kitty's sense of humor. She put him at ease like no girl he'd ever met. Then he remembered what he needed to ask her. "So. I was just wonderin'... Would you, uh...?" He took a step closer and gripped his hat tightly in front of him with both hands.

She gazed up at him and her heart fluttered a little in her chest for her sweet young cowboy trying to buck up his courage. "Uh-huh?"

He cleared his throat and shuffled his dusty, booted feet. "Would you like to go to the dance with me?"

"This Saturday, huh?"

"Yep."

"You think Mr. Blessing will give me the evening off? I haven't really discussed hours with him or anything."

Matt's face looked stricken, and he mumbled, "Oh," as if he hadn't thought of that particular problem.

"But if Mr. Blessing says it's alright..." She gave him a dazzling smile. "I'd love to go to the barn dance with you, Matt Dillon."

Matt looked immensely relieved. "You would?"

"Yes, I surely would. I would be honored."

He smiled and jammed his hat back on his head. "Well, in that case, you want to leave here about seven? Or is that too early?"

"Maybe I should talk to Mr. Blessing first about what time I might be finished with work, and then you and I can discuss our plans. That all right with you?"

"That would be fine." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Just fine. Uh...is there anything I can help you with here? Anything you need? I'd be glad to..."

"Matt, this place is completely furnished. It doesn't look like I'll need a blessed thing. Nothing that I can think of right now anyway." She rose from the bed and approached the young man, gazing up at him soberly. "Matt, are you sure it's okay? I mean, me using this place? I feel guilty, like this was her home..."

"Aw, Kitty, I wouldn't worry about that." He reached over and squeezed her arm reassuringly. "Mr. Blessing is a good man. He wanted you to use this cabin." Matt's eyes swept around the room slowly, drinking it all in, the lingering memories of the past, of lives spent happily and contentedly until fate intervened and took away a beloved wife entirely too soon. "He meant for you to come here. He wouldn't have offered it otherwise."

"You think so?"

His large, expressive blue eyes searched hers. "I know so."

She sighed, "Well, in that case..."

"I guess I need to get back to work if you don't need me anymore. Do you want to stay here and I can come pick you up later?"

"No, Matt, I think I'll get back to work, too." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Unless you want beans and cornpone for supper, that is."

His eyes widened. "No, I most certainly do not! Let's go!" He took her elbow and steered her towards the door as she laughed merrily. He looked down at her from his impressive height as they headed for their mount. "You sure are a good cook, Kitty. Me and the boys appreciate what you're doin'."

"Oh, Matt, I'm not such a good cook." She wrinkled her nose at him in the bright sunlight of the open prairie. "It's just that I'm a sight better than what you're used to!" She tugged at his sleeve as they reached the horse. "And it's me who should be thankin' you, Matt. You got me out of a fix. I had nowhere to go."

He mounted their horse and reached a hand down for her, hoisting her up in front of him with ease. His breath brushed her ear as he spoke, "Aw, Kitty, you had someplace to go. Cause right here is where you belong." Then he wrapped his strong arms around her again and clucked his tongue at Smoky while she settled back against his broad chest to enjoy the ride, sighing this time in contentment.

tbc

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	14. Chapter 14

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 14

"Juliet"

"Mr. Blessing, why don't you come eat with us sometime? I'd enjoy your company, and heaven knows those boys and their questionable manners sure could benefit from your influence," Kitty had suggested amiably just the second day after she started working at the Sweetwater Ranch.

Much to her surprise, and to the utter amazement of his cowboys who sat with open mouths, forks hanging suspended in midair, Leland Blessing took Kitty up on her invitation and appeared at the breakfast table the next morning. After they'd recovered suitably, murmuring cordial greetings to their boss , the men dove back into their breakfast of spicy sausage and fresh scrambled eggs, hot biscuits and sawmill gravy, and Mr. Blessing had joined right in the conversation without a hitch, making Kitty beam happily. Matt smiled at her pleased expression, knowing she was the reason his curmudgeonly boss was being sociable.

It was hard to resist Kitty Russell's charms, Matt thought as he helped himself to another fluffy biscuit. Even Cookie seemed less moody and morose with Kitty around to help. For just a moment, Matt worried that Cookie's affections might be transferring from his girl in Beaver Township to Kitty, but when he looked at her sitting right next to him at the table, eyes shining up at him, he thought maybe he had a pretty good edge over the competition. He surely to goodness hoped so, anyway.

After breakfast, Kitty and Cookie were clearing the table when Mr. Blessing touched her elbow and motioned for her to come with him.

"I'll be back in a minute, Freddie," Kitty called, and she followed her boss to a little arbor where small, delicate red roses grew riotously over a sturdy wooden bench.

"Have a seat, Kitty," he invited as he lowered himself stiffly. "The old knees ain't what they used to be," he groaned, sighing as he sat heavily beside her.

She chuckled ruefully, "I know what you mean. The older you get, the more aches and pains you acquire in places you never even realized you had."

"Now what would a young girl like you know about that?" he demanded in a mock-stern voice.

"Oh, now, Mr. Blessing..." she amended. "You'd be surprised at the things I know."

"You're probably right, my dear." He gazed at her curiously. "You seem wise beyond your years. I've never met anybody quite like you before."

She winked at him, claiming, "I'll take that as a compliment, sir."

"Matthew is right. You're not like all those other foolish little gals."

She opened her mouth in surprise. "Has he been talking about me?"

"Well, yeah, actually he come to me to ask if he could take you to the dance Saturday night." He chuckled, rubbing his nose.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Blessing, I didn't mean for him to bother you. I told Matt I would ask you about my hours. About what time I could leave to go..."

Leland Blessing held up a hand. "Now don't you apologize, young lady. It tickled my fancy, that young scudder comin' to me to ask my permission like I was your pa or somethin'..."

"Well, what was the answer?" Her voice was laced with suppressed laughter.

"I said, of course, as long as he got you back home at a respectable hour!" He patted her arm and they laughed together.

Then Kitty's expression sobered and she placed her hand atop his. "I wanna thank you again, Mr. Blessing, for givin' me a chance. I don't know what I woulda' done..."

"Now, let's don't get maudlin over a little matter like givin' you a job. I could tell you were a good risk, right from the get go."

"Is that right? How could you tell? You just met me."

"Well, Matthew liked you, too. And I've always said he's a purty good judge of character." Blessing took off his hat and scratched at his steel-gray head a little, squinting at her in the morning sun. "And you reminded me a little of my wife. She was no nonsense, a straight-shooter, with a good head on her shoulders. I admire that in a woman."

Kitty folded her hands in her lap, spoke softly, "She must have been very special to you, Mr. Blessing. She must have been some kinda' woman to make you love her so much."

"Yep," his voice strangled out. Blessing turned his head, rubbing a hand over his mouth. "That she was."

Kitty sat very still and quiet, waiting.

Mr. Blessing took a shallow breath, then spoke in a hushed voice, his eyes not meeting hers. "Juliet Moon. That was her name. Before she married me, o' course. I told her she was my Juliet, just like in Shakespeare, and that she hung the moon." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "You ever read _Romeo and Juliet_?" he asked her.

"No, sir, I can't say that I have. But you evidently have," she encouraged him.

"Oh, yes, many a time. Used to read it by candlelight at night after my chores were done-when I was a boy," he explained. "Only went through eighth grade in the little one-room school I attended, but I kept right on learnin' on my own once I finished up. I read everthing I could get my hands on. Read until I fell asleep most ever night, tired as I was after plowin' and hoein' and such. Farm work is hard work. My ma fretted somethin' fierce, worried I would strain my eyesight. But mostly she let me be. She knew how I loved to read."

"Where did you meet your Juliet?" Kitty asked softly.

"Church," he laughed. "Can you imagine an ornery scoundrel like myself in church? Yep, I set out to find me a bride, a helpmate, after I bought this here land. Trouble was, there weren't too many women around in those days."

"Still aren't too many," she observed, and he nodded in agreement.

"You're right, but it was even worse back then. To find a respectable woman, you had to go to church, my buddies told me. "So off I went, spit and polished up. I must've been a sight for sore eyes." He shook his head.

"Was it love at first sight?" Kitty knew a little something about love at first sight.

"Oh, no, nothing like that a'tall. You see, my Juliet, she was a plain girl, not somebody a feller would notice right off. I know that sounds terrible, but..." His voice faltered for a moment, but then he looked into Kitty's kind, knowing eyes and explained, "Sometimes you got to get to know a person before you notice how beautiful they really are. Does that sound plumb crazy?"

"No, Mr. Blessing, it doesn't. I think I know exactly what you mean."

"And my Juliet, why, she was the preacher's daughter!"

"Oh, my!" Kitty exclaimed in mock consternation.

"You bet! I didn't think I had a prayer at winnin' over her mama and daddy."

"But you did..."

"Yeah," he answered softly, and his eyes got a faraway look in them that told Kitty he was not looking at her anymore. He was remembering his Juliet Moon, the reverend's daughter. "She was what you would call a...a bluestocking. A lot of men wouldn't appreciate a woman with a fine mind, an educated mind, but I felt like I'd found my soulmate." His eyes misted with tears, and Kitty knew that he was admitting to her things he'd probably never spoken of before.

"I think I know how that feels, Mr. Blessing. " Her voice lowered to a whisper. "I realize I look awful young, but..." She smiled earnestly. "I really do understand."

His lips turned up at the corners as he answered, "I bet you do, young lady. I just bet you do."

"Once you find your soulmate, a body should never let go of them."

"I didn't, I guess. I mean, I don't think I've ever let go of her, even after all this time." And Leland Blessing closed his eyes and his mind drifted forty years past, and he was sitting in the little cabin on the edge of the bed he'd painstakingly carved for Juliet before they were wed. And he was watching her take down her thick brown hair, brushing it a hundred strokes like she did every night. Brushing the strands until they shone in the candlelight, and she was gazing at him in the mirror at the same time. Watching him with her soulful brown eyes that could speak volumes to him even from clear across the room. He remembered how he'd been so surprised by her passion on their wedding night, how she'd unfolded for him like an exotic flower with her sillky woman's skin and fragrant hair and quiet urgency. He remembered how he'd whispered Romeo's words in her ear as they lay in the bed together side by side, his voice hoarse with emotion, ""Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night."

And then he opened his eyes and he was no longer in the cabin, but sitting in Juliet's flower garden with a lovely, surprisingly wise young girl he wished were his daughter. His and Juliet's. Leland Blessing cleared his throat self-consciously. "Of course you can go to the dance," he abruptly stated. "Leave whenever you like, but...you better be back at a respectable hour, now, you hear?"

She beamed at him, "Yes, sir!" Then she impulsively leaned over and kissed him soundly on the cheek, saying, "I'd better get to fixing dinner, or else Freddie will be cooking up beans and cornpone again!"

"Good gracious, go then!" he groused good-naturedly. "Oh, and I laid something for you on your bed, my dear."

"What is it?" she asked in surprise.

"Now, where would the fun be in that if I told you?" he said with narrowed, calculating eyes. "You'll find out when you go home tonight. Now get on back to work."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Blessing. Will you come eat dinner with us?"

"Hmph..." he grunted wordlessly, but Kitty knew she'd see him again come dinnertime.

tbc

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	15. Chapter 15

_I truly appreciate all the extremely kind reader comments and encouragement. Your thoughts help to shape, if not this fic, then the next one down the line. It just happens to be Growing Old 2 which I am currently working on. Gunsmoke fanfic readers are the biggest, sweetest, most shameless romantics on the whole dadgum prairie and I love writing for you all. xoxo, lj_

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 15

"Barn Dance"

The fiery fiddle player energetically wielded his bow, his raucous tune soaring high above the spirited laughter and happy conversation floating throughout the Widow Elder's spacious barn. Whirling dancers dipped and swayed to the infectious rhythm of the musicians on a makeshift stage crowded into the corner of the room. Kitty inhaled the familiar scents around her—sweet-smelling hay, generously-spiked punch, home-baked treats, and the spicy, clean-smelling tonic her tall, handsome escort had liberally applied after his Saturday night bath. She beamed up at Matt Dillon, all dressed up in his best bib and tucker, scrubbed and combed and fresh as a daisy.

Matt had hardly taken his eyes off Kitty from the moment he'd shown up at her cabin door to fetch her in a buggy he'd borrowed from Mr. Blessing. Her appearance was rather unconventional perhaps, but the way Matt was looking at her led her to believe he must be pleased with what he saw. Standing at the barn door looking in at the crowd, Kitty could feel that Matt Dillon had eyes for her only as he stood at her elbow, his hand deliciously nestled at the small of her back.

She was wearing a beautiful periwinkle silk gown Mr. Blessing had secretly left on her bed. The dress most certainly had belonged to his late wife, as it was of a quaint Regency style she'd never seen outside of fashion magazines or history books. But it was indeed incredibly lovely and she had to admit it flattered her figure in a most becoming way. Kitty, of course, didn't have a party dress herself, so she was very grateful to her employer for his thoughtfulness.

To tell the absolute truth, she felt rather underdressed, in a manner of speaking. For this old-fashioned, body-skimming style of gown had no bustle, no crinoline and no voluminous petticoats. The slim-fitting, blue silk skirt and filmy white overskirt did nothing to disguise her figure. It had an empire waistline with a narrow white ribbon tied in a bow beneath her bosom, the ends of the ribbon long and flowing. The tiny, short, puffed sleeves and daringly low-cut bodice that clung to her generous curves revealed more of her creamy white décolletage than she had ventured in a great many years. In keeping with the style of the dress, she had pinned her red curls high in the back, leaving small, soft curls framing her face, and the resulting exquisite, delicately feminine figure she presented took Matt Dillon's breath clean away.

Kitty gave a little shiver at the cool evening breeze that brushed over her exposed skin so she pulled the long silk wrap that matched the color of her eyes more tightly around her shoulders. Matt touched her cheek, flushed with excitement, with the back of one index finger and said in a low voice that tickled her belly, "You're the prettiest girl in the room, Kitty Russell."

She gave him a mock stern look. "How do you know? You haven't even looked at anybody else yet."

She felt his eyes rake appreciatively over her figure again, just like old times, but this time her shiver wasn't from the cold.

"I've got all I need to look at right here, Kitty. I don't think anyone else could hold a candle to you tonight."

Her pretend pouty look blossomed into a sparkling smile, and she took his arm, squeezing it. "You smooth-talker, you. You sure know how to turn a girl's head."

"Only when the girl is you." His eyes were twinkling as he added, "Let's, uh...what do you say we go get us some of that punch over there? I believe there are two bowls—one for the more adventurous types and one for the folks who like to play it safe. Which do you prefer, young lady?"

She pretended to think hard, urging him towards the punch table. "Ya' know, I think I'm more the adventurous type, Cowboy. But let's go taste it and see."

A grizzled little old man with long whiskers and a decided dearth of teeth was busily dipping punch into dainty crystal cups. Matt greeted him, "Howdy, Mozelle!"

"Howdy, yerself! You ready to bend an elbow, Dillon? I ain't seed you in quite a while, youngster! Last time was over to the Rusty Nail when you drank too much Taos Lightnin' and then ya' climbed—"

Matt expeditiously cut off the old man's intriguing anecdote. "Mozelle! I'd like you to meet somebody! This here's Kitty Russell."

The old man squinted at her, digging in his shirt pocket and coming out with wire-rimmed spectacles which he quickly donned. Then his eyes bugged out a little in his weathered face. "Well! Looky here!" he exclaimed, straightening his string tie and snapping his bright yellow gallouses. "Ain't you a sight fer sore eyes, little missy!"

"Down, Mozelle," Matt warned with a poker face, while Kitty pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. "She's with me, old-timer."

Mozelle protested, grinning his toothless grin. "Aw, what is she gonna do with a big ol' galoot like you?"

Kitty glanced up at Matt out of the corner of her eye, drily quipping, "I don't rightly know, Mozelle, but I'll figure somethin' out."

Mozelle set to cackling with laughter until Matt had to reach across the refreshment table and pound him on his bony back a few times.

"I'm okay, I'm okay..." the old codger wheezed. "She's a pip, that one is. A right sassy little looker. You got yer hands full, Dillon, I'll tell ya'."

Matt aimed a crooked smile down at Kitty. "I know, but I think I can handle her all right."

Mozelle gave a saucy little whistle in reply. "Well, you get tired of 'er, you be sure an' let me know. What she might require is a mature gentleman such as myself." Mozelle gave Kitty a sly wink.

Kitty winked right back.

Matt chuffed out a laugh. "Aw, break it up, you two. Hey, Mozelle, where's...?

At that moment they were surrounded by four familiar shining faces, hair slicked back, sporting their Sunday best and wafting in a big cloud of rosewater tonic and bay rum. The powerful fumes made Kitty's eyes water a little bit. "Why, hello, boys," she said with a small cough. "My, don't you all look handsome!"

"Miss Kitty!" The words whooshed from their lungs in a single, young male chorus as they stared at Kitty with wonder.

"What's the matter, boys?" Kitty asked in amusement. "Cat got your tongue?"

Lionel began, "W-well, Miss..."

Cletus stumbled, "You look..."

Young Henry Small, hat in hand, stammered, "L-like an angel, M-miss..."

Kitty's heart melted at Henry's solemn compliment and the adoring look in his big blue eyes. She hadn't often been compared to an angel before. Kitty placed a gentle hand on Henry's cheek. "Why, thank you kindly, Henry. That's so sweet of you."

Matt remarked, "Frank, you haven't said a word. And, uh, buddy, I think you got a little drool comin' out of the corner of your mouth there."

Frank snapped to, smacking Matt on the arm. "Miss Kitty, has anybody asked you to dance yet? Will ya' dance with me?"

Matt vehemently protested, "Ohhh no. Kitty is with me, boys. Go find your own girl."

Cletus loudly proclaimed, "But you don't dance, Matt!"

Indignant, Lionel chimed in, "You hate it!"

Firmly, Matt declared, "Well, I'm dancin' tonight, boys, so get used to it. Kitty, would you do me the honor?" He held out his hand.

Eyes shining, she replied, "I would love to, Matt Dillon."

Frank strenuously objected, "Why, with those big beetle crushers of yours, you'll step on her toes, Dillon! Miss Kitty, he's no dancer. You should dance with me instead."

She answered Frank, but her eyes were on her dance partner, "Maybe next time, boys."

Matt led Kitty to the dance floor, ignoring his friends' protests. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I really am no good at this kinda stuff, you know."

She smiled gently, "I know, Matt, but you'll get better at it with practice."

"You think so?" He looked down. "I do have awful big feet."

"Well, you know what they say about men with big feet, Cowboy..."

His voice rose an octave and his face flushed a little. "Huh?"

She got tickled. "Big feet...big heart!"

"Ohhh..." He nodded, scratching his head. "Now...which foot do I start with? I always get mixed up."

She purred gently as she took his big hand in hers, guiding it to her slim waist, "You just put your hands here..." She looked up at him through her lashes. "And here... And I put my hands there."

His warm hand slid farther around her waist, and he pulled her more closely to him until their bodies were pressed together. "I like it better like this..." He smiled. "Don't you?" His gaze was heated as it traveled over her skin.

"Mmm-hmm..." she answered.

Now what?" he asked.

"You just hold on to me, Cowboy, and I'll try and do the rest. Think you can handle that?"

"I'm ready when you are, little lady..."

tbc

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	16. Chapter 16

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 16

"Freddie's Dilemma"

"Freddie!" Kitty cried gaily, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck and embracing him warmly. It was a tight squeeze in the Widow Elder's barn right then. It seemed everyone in town and the surrounding countryside had shown up to dance the night away.

Freddie's expression was astonished as he took Kitty's hands and held her at arm's length. "Let me look at you. Sweet Jesus, Kitty! You sure clean up good! You look like a princess."

Kitty threw her head back and laughed. "Gosh, thanks, but so do you."

"I look like a princess? I certainly hope not!" Freddie extended his hand to Kitty's proud escort to shake. "Hey, Matt, you lucky son-of-a-bitch, how'd you rate a gorgeous female like this?"

Matt shrugged his wide shoulders, but Kitty noticed he stood a little taller as he grinned, "Don't ask me. But I'm not gonna question it. Say, will you stay here with Kitty for a minute while I go get us some more punch?" He was eyeing Simon Dooley and Junk Kelley far across the room, talking with a couple of rancher's daughters.

"Sure thing, Matt. I'll stay with your girl. But don't be gone long, or I might be tempted steal her away from you!"

As Matt shook his head at his friend and began to work his way through the crowd toward the refreshments, Kitty placed her hands on Freddie's shoulders. "Where'd you get this nice courtin' coat, Freddie? You sure look handsome."

"Oh, I brought this with me from New York. It's the cultural and fashion capital of these United States, ya' know."

"You don't say? Well, what made you move all the way out here in the middle of nowhere then?"

"You wouldn't believe me."

She cocked her head at him. "Try me."

Grinning sheepishly, he admitted, "Dime novels."

She leaned a little closer. "Say what?" Kitty thought maybe she hadn't heard him correctly over the noise of the party guests and the loud music.

"You heard me... Dime novels. Story papers. Penny Dreadfuls. Riveting tales of the American West! I grew up on the mean streets of New York City and I always longed to see how the other half of the United States lived. My pa died when I was only sixteen, and I was all alone, so I decided to 'Go West, Young Man!'" He chuckled ruefully. "You think I'm crazy now, don't you?"

Kitty shook her head firmly. "No, not at all! I think you're a hopeless romantic, Freddie, through and through. Speaking of romance, where's your girl from Beaver Township, huh? The one with eyes the color of the storm-tossed sea?"

"Hey! How'd you know that?"

"Well, Freddie, you write those love letters and leave 'em layin' around the kitchen all the time. What's a self-respecting, curious girl supposed to do? Ignore 'em?"

"Ahhh... Kitty!" He shook his finger at her.

"Oh, Freddie, I think they're lovely letters, and any girl would be lucky to receive something so beautiful and thoughtful from her beau!"

He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "Really? You think so?"

"I know so! So, uh, where is that lucky girl?"

Freddie's eyes shifted around the big barn. "Well, I'm hoping she'll show up soon."

"You mean you didn't go pick up your girl and bring her to the dance yourself?"

"Well..." Freddie scrunched up his face. "Her pa doesn't like me so much. She asked her brother to escort her here tonight, so her Pa won't know she's seeing me."

"Freddie!"

"I don't know what else to do, Kitty. He says I got no prospects."

"No prospects?"

He threw his hands wide helplessly. "I'm a cook for a buncha' cowboys! I couldn't possibly support his beautiful daughter in a manner to which she's accustomed."

"Have you asked her what _she_ wants?"

"Well, not in so many words..."

"Does she love you?"

"I...I think so. I mean, she says she does."

"What does she think about the situation? Does she want to marry you?"

"Yeah..." Freddie nodded his head, then changed his mind and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, actually I don't know..."

"Well, ask her, Freddie!"

"Problem is, Kitty, I kinda' agree with her Pa."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I can't provide for Celia like I want to. I don't make enough money to buy her a nice house and pretty clothes."

"Well, then..." Kitty put her hands on her hips expectantly. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Puzzled, he asked, "Do about it?"

"Freddie, you're a smart young man. How can you make more money so you can marry your Celia and make her happy?"

"Maybe get another job? But what would I do? I'm a cook now, but I'm a terrible one! Even I don't like my own cooking. That's pretty bad."

She placed a hand on his sleeve. "Well, what are you good at, Freddie?"

"I...I don't know. I've never given it much thought. I guess I've been too busy feeling sorry about the things I _don't_ have."

She crossed her arms decisively. "I myself have happened to notice that you're a pretty darn good writer." She innocently rolled her eyes heavenward. "Not that I've read any of your private, personal letters or anything."

He laughed good-naturedly.

Kitty intently looked into his dark eyes. "Have you ever thought about that? Writing for a living, I mean?"

He chewed on his bottom lip. "Come to think of it, no. I've always enjoyed reading books and writing letters, but I never envisioned myself as a professional writer. Don't you have to know some big, important publishing guys to get a book printed?"

"I have no idea, Freddie, but that's something you could find out for yourself, couldn't you?"

Suddenly Matt's voice rose above the noise of the crowd, "Hey, you two, come over to this empty table and have a seat!" Matt had managed to balance three cups of punch in one large palm and a plate filled with food in the other. Kitty hurried to help him set the dishes down, and then Matt held out her chair while she smoothed her gossamer skirt and sat. Matt eagerly broke apart a fried dried apple pie and handed Kitty half, then pointed to the plate. "Help yourself, Freddie."

Freddie noticed that Matt had called him by his given name, not "Cookie." No one had ever done that until Kitty arrived. Nobody had cared what his real name was.

"Thanks," he said, taking a grateful sip of his glass of punch and grabbing a tea cake. "Whoa! Mozelle didn't stint on the bug juice in this batch, did he?"

Matt and Kitty tested their own glasses. Kitty's eyes opened wide and she cleared her throat. "You're right about that. It tastes like it's got enough kick to knock down the barn door. You boys better not drink too awful much of that stuff."

Matt sighed and looked a little disappointed.

Kitty parried, "Don't look at me like that, Matthew Dillon. Mr. Blessing said you better have his buggy with me in it back home at a respectable hour, and I don't like to think what would happen if you didn't." She shot him a mysterious little smile. "Not to mention what you might miss out on if you get roaring drunk. And Freddie, what would Celia think if she came tonight only to find you tangle-footed and smellin' of coffin varnish?" She daintily lifted a brow. "Just sayin'..."

Freddie raised his impressively thick eyebrows at Matt and shook his head. "I don't think I'd wanna miss out on that last part, _compadre_," he observed wryly. "And my Celia's gonna find me sober as a judge and ready to cut a caper on the dance floor tonight."

Matt licked the sugar and cinnamon off his thumb and leaned back in his chair with a calculating look on his face. "I'll have you know that I've already been dancing the evening away, Mr. Fiore."

Freddie looked aghast. "No! Not Matt Dillon. What about your old war injury, soldier? Or is that just what you tell the girls you _don't_ wanna hold close on the dance floor? Kitty, he must like you a powerful heap if he's actually been cuttin' a rug with you."

Kitty looked at Matt out of the corner of her eye and said archly, "Is that so?" At that moment she sensed someone standing at her side. Kitty turned to find Frank, Cletus, and Lionel, grinning broadly, faces ruddy from too much corn liquor, young Henry shyly bringing up the rear.

Frank spoke first, "Howdy there, Miss Kitty. Have I told you how purty you look this fine evenin'?"

"No, Frank, I don't believe you have. But I thank you kindly." She beamed at them all. "Are you gents enjoying yourselves tonight?"

Matt snorted a laugh and elbowed Freddie. "Kitty, I think they've been enjoying themselves a little too much."

Lionel retorted, "Like you haven't ever enjoyed yourself too much, Matt Dillon. I've seen you so durn dru—"

Matt interrupted, "Hey, Lionel, you don't hafta go tellin' stories on me. Why don't you boys go and have you a bite to eat? You don't wanna be sufferin' from barrel fever tomorrow, do ya'?"

Frank interjected, "I don't have a hankerin' for any refreshments, thanks. I just wanted to ask Miss Kitty here if she would dance with me, Matt. You had your fun. Cain't we borrow her for a little while?"

Matt blew out a breath and looked over at Kitty silently.

Kitty, in turn, looked straight at Henry, standing quietly and safely behind Lionel, blue eyes shining softly as he gazed back at her. "Henry," she said with a sweet smile. "Would you care to dance?"

Henry's voice failed him. Instead his jaw dropped a little, his suntanned cheeks flushing deep red.

Kitty stood, parting the boys with a gentle hand so that she could stand face to face with her self-conscious, tow-headed admirer. "Henry, what do you say?"

"I-I-I..."

Frank groused, "Spit it out, son!"

"I'm not such a good dancer, M-miss!"

Kitty looked over her shoulder at Matt. "Matt says he isn't either, but he did just fine. I think you will, too. Come on, I'll teach you." As his envious friends watched, Kitty took Henry's trembling hand and led him to the crowded dance floor. She placed his hands just so and said with a smile, "You just take a deep breath, Henry. I promise, I won't bite."

Henry breathed, "Oh no, Miss. I know you won't." He swallowed hard and continued, "I-I think you're just about the nicest girl I ever met in my whole entire l-l-life."

Kitty chuckled and squeezed his hand. "Your whole entire life, huh? Oh, Henry...you're gonna make some lucky girl mighty happy one of these days. In the meantime, let's you and me take a little whirl around the dance floor. Whatta you say?"

"Y-yes, Miss. I surely would like that."

"Alright then, just start with this foot here, okay? Ready?"

"R-ready, Miss..."

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The rest of the Sweetwater cowhands sat in a somewhat sullen-faced row on hay bales, watching wistfully as Henry shyly glided across the floor holding Kitty in her fairy tale, blue silk dress in his arms. Kitty and Henry were breathless after dancing a reel, their third dance in a row, and they clapped for the musicians as she glanced over at the table where Matt sat with Freddie. Only now there was an extra person at the table. "Who's that?" Kitty asked Henry. The person in question was a young lady dressed in deep purple, an exquisite gown in the very latest fashion with wide hoop skirts, cascading ruffles, lace and silk flowers, not to mention a plunging neckline that revealed her creamy shoulders and slim, white throat. Her shining, blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, and her small, delicate hand was lying possessively on Matt's own hand. "Henry?" she repeated, tugging on the boy's sleeve. "Do you know who that is?"

"Y-yes, Miss," he answered. "That's the Widow Elder."

"Widow?" Kitty echoed incredulously.

"Yep, h-her husband just died not long ago. This here's her party. Sh-she's a rich lady now. F-frank says she's h-h-husband huntin'."

"Is that so?" Kitty squared her shoulders. "Well, Henry, let's you and me go talk to the Widow Elder for a bit, shall we?"

tbc

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	17. Chapter 17

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 17

"The Widow Elder"

Kitty could feel the Widow Elder's tilting, almond-shaped eyes following her across the room as she walked on Henry Small's arm. Kitty knew good and well when she was being sized up by another woman. She felt self-conscious in her simple, unadorned, old-fashioned gown, alongside the beautifully coiffed, stylishly-dressed young woman wearing expensive jewelry and fluttering a lace fan before her. Kitty's eye was on the "widow's" hand placed familiarly atop Matt's. Kitty took a deep, fortifying breath as she and Henry closed the distance between them, holding her head high. She had seen this kind of sticky female time and again, and it was nothing new to her. Nothing she couldn't handle, she reminded herself. She pasted on her best "kill 'em with kindness" smile as they reached the table.

"Kitty!" Matt grinned broadly and stood, slipping his hand from beneath the Widow Elder's grasp. Kitty swore he actually appeared a little relieved. He gestured in introduction. "Kitty Russell, I'd like you to meet Adelaide Elder."

"Miss Russell..." Adelaide delicately held out her hand for Kitty to take, nodding her blonde head genteelly. "Thank you so much for coming to my party. I do believe I've taken your seat."

"Kitty, take my seat..." Matt quickly stepped back and indicated she should take the chair next to their hostess. "I'll go round up another one."

Henry nervously seized the opportunity to mumble his thanks and excuses, bob his head politely and hurriedly escape to huddle with his friends on the other side of the barn.

Kitty sat obligingly in Matt's still-warm chair, smiling at Adelaide in what she hoped was a not-too-tight greeting. "Thank you for having me, Mrs. Elder. I've had such lovely time."

The widow primly simpered, flitting her fan all the while. "I'm sure you have, my dear. Matt was a sweetheart to bring you along with him. I'll bet that old Leland Blessing is a bear to work for, right, Matt?" Adelaide's dark eyes keenly followed him as he sat down in a chair he'd swiped from a neighboring table. She reached across Kitty to swat him on the arm playfully with her fan. "Matt and I go way back, don't we, Matt? Has he told you?"

Kitty bit her bottom lip and then smiled sweetly. "Why, no, he hasn't mentioned it. But he did tell me that your poor husband died very suddenly. I was so sorry to hear about that. Was he sick very long?"

Adelaide cleared her throat and refused to meet her eyes. "No, I'm afraid it was quite sudden. I will miss him so... Matt, you must come over for supper real soon. You haven't been by to see me in ages!"

From his chair safely on the other side of Kitty, Matt deadpanned, "Adelaide, you've been married for two years now. That's reason enough not to stop by, don't you think?"

Kitty quickly coughed to cover an unladylike cackle that very nearly escaped.

Freddie, who'd remained silently observant, eyes shining in amusement, finally spoke up. "So, Adelaide... Does this mean you're back on the marriage market?"

Adelaide Elder's eyes flashed and her mouth opened in surprise. "Why, Freddie Fiore! What a thing to say! My poor husband is barely cold."

Freddie grinned mischievously. "Sorry, Adelaide. Where are my manners?"

Adelaide quickly changed the subject. Eyeing Kitty's dress, she cocked her head to one side, placing her folded fan at her chin. "My dear, that is the most interesting dress. Why, anyone only has to look at you and see what a lovely figure you have..." She minced out a smile. "Wherever did you get it?

Freddie quickly spoke up, "Family heirloom, Adelaide. Can't you tell? I think she looks stunning." He smiled genuinely at Kitty.

Matt gazed at her and stated firmly, "I think you're the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on, Kitty."

She actually felt her cheeks warming at such open praise from her two companions. "Why, Matt..." She looked from one to the other, feeling very grateful right then. "Oh, Freddie, I probably don't compare to your Celia." She could almost see Adelaide's feathers ruffling in front of her very eyes.

Freddie's face lit up. "Speaking of Celia..." He suddenly stood and muttered, "Excuse me, folks, but I've got some dancing to do..."

Kitty watched as he weaved through the crowd toward a tall girl with thick, wavy brown hair tied up in a yellow ribbon to match her demure, ruffled frock. Kitty couldn't see her face, but she held the arm of a young man Kitty assumed to be her brother. Kitty's heart melted when she saw Freddie and Celia greet each other, clasping hands, Freddie heartily shaking the hand of Celia's brother.

She breathed happily, "Oh, Matt, did you see that?"

Matt sat silently, but gave her hand a surreptitious squeeze under the table.

Adelaide stood, snapping open her fan. "Matt, I suppose I should go visit with my other guests now. I hope to see you soon...?"

Matt gave her a bland smile. "Sure, Adelaide, maybe I'll see you around."

"Well...good evening, then."

Kitty smiled, the warmth of Matt's hand beneath the table reassuring. She said confidently, "Good evening, Adelaide."

The young woman turned with a flip of her skirts and indignantly marched to a neighboring table.

"Kitty..." Matt turned to her with a hangdog expression. "I'm sorry about that. Adelaide is somethin' else, that's for sure."

"That's okay, Matt." She looked down at their entwined fingers. "Thanks for takin' up for me. You didn't have to do that. I really can take care of myself, you know. I've come across her kind before."

Matt gave a little snort. "I'm sure you have and I'm sure you can take care of yourself." He looked into her eyes. "But I like helpin' out, just a little, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind, Cowboy." The corners of her lips turned up, just a hint of a smile. "Not one bit."

Kitty's face felt flushed but she didn't have a beautiful fan like Adelaide Elder to cool herself. "Matt, would you care if we walk outside for a minute? I'm a little warm. I think maybe _I've_ had a little too much punch."

"Sure, Kitty. I wouldn't mind gettin' a bit of fresh air myself." He stood and held out his arm, and the sight of him, so fresh and young and gentlemanly, just made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest. She was remembering all those dances and sociable and weddings he'd missed over the years, all because of his official duties. She was recalling how disappointed and miserable she'd been each and every time, and how she'd always tried to comfort herself with the fact that it wasn't his fault, not really. But it'd hurt all the same. Because she knew she'd always take second place to that damn badge.

But now, somehow, here she was in this place and this time with Matt Dillon, and he wasn't wearin' a badge at all. And right now he had eyes for her only. She swallowed the lump in her throat and rose slowly from her chair, taking his arm and nestling close to him. They wove through the party guests and walked outside, past the thinning crowd to where the torchlights bled away to nothing, and it was cool and dark and smelled of sweet, intoxicating honeysuckle. Looking up at the sprinkling of stars, Matt and Kitty listened to the tree frogs and the crickets and the slow, lilting music of a waltz coming from the barn far behind them.

Then Kitty looked up at her companion-_way_ up because he was so breathtakingly tall, and she asked, "Did you really mean what you said in there?"

"What, that maybe I'll see Adelaide around sometime?" Then he got tickled and laughed at his own joke.

Kitty puffed out an indignant breath and playfully smacked his arm. "No!" And she laughed in spite of herself.

Then his white smile faded, and he turned to face her and pull her close, very close to him, tilting her chin back so he could look into her eyes, and he said, "You mean, that you're the prettiest little thing I ever laid eyes on?"

"Yeah, Matt Dillon. That's more like it. I'm not used to such flowery sentiments from you, you know."

"Well, maybe that's because you haven't known me long enough." He tenderly placed a hand on her smooth, rosy cheek. "You might be surprised by what I'm capable of."

"How come you can still surprise me? Matt, I feel like I've known you forever." Her head reeled with the knowledge and memories this young, inexperienced Matt did not possess.

He was so close his breath brushed her lips when he answered without a hint of irony, "Funny...I feel the same way." His mouth grazed hers so very lightly, and he whispered, "I'm gonna' kiss you now, Kitty Russell."

She was feeling light-headed as she answered, "Please do..."

A taunting, rasping voice from the darkness called out, "Aww, ain't this sweet..."

Kitty gasped and they both turned toward the sound.

Buford Hicks stepped out of the shadows of the trees. "Little lady, by my account, you still owe me."

Matt growled low in his throat, "I'd like to see you try anything, Hicks."

Two other figures stepped out of the bushes-Simon Dooley and Junk Kelley. The three Lazy J ranch hands stood side by side. Kelley snarled, "Dillon, I'm gettin' damn tired of you, always in the way. I think we need to teach you and your little whore a lesson or two."

tbc

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	18. Chapter 18

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 18

"Lazy J Hands"

Desperately, fiercely, Kitty struggled against Buford Hicks' beefy grasp while Simon Dooley and Junk Kelley pounded Matt mercilessly with their fists, the sound of flesh impacting flesh turning her stomach. "Get your filthy hands off me!" she snarled through gritted teeth, but Hicks only gave an ugly laugh, wantonly sliding his hand over her belly, grinding his sweaty body against hers, making her skin crawl and bile rise bitterly in her throat.

"Matt!" she wailed, watching helplessly as Kelley punched him in the stomach over and over again, his arms restrained by Dooley. Kitty determinedly ground the sharp corner of her heel into Hicks' foot. Angrily roaring in pain, her captor loosened his grip just long enough for her to slip out of his hands and attack Dooley from behind. She raked her nails across Dooley's face as he screeched in pain, releasing Matt's arms. Matt, mouth bleeding profusely and one eye nearly swollen shut, struck back at Kelley, hammering him repeatedly in the jaw with his bloodied fists until his attacker finally went down and stayed down, moaning quietly.

Quickly Matt turned on Hicks, managing to land a solid right to the huge man's jaw before Simon Dooley viciously kicked Matt in the kneecap with his boot heel again and again. He collapsed on his knees, groaning in pain. Dooley leaned over and seized a handful of Matt's hair, jerking his head back so he could watch while Buford Hicks snaked his powerful arm around Kitty's neck, snorting derisively at her useless efforts to free herself from his viselike grip. "Let go of me!" she growled, attempting to kick back at him.

"Oh no, you don't, you little whore. Not this time," Buford hissed menacingly. "By my account, you still owe me. And your sweetheart there can watch while I get what I paid for." A sob escaped her throat as Hicks' other hand came from behind, sliding across her dress to painfully clutch her breast through the thin silk fabric. He taunted Matt, "Looky here what I got, Big Man. Don't you wish you had a little piece of this?"

Matt gasped and struggled to stagger to his feet, but Dooley savagely jerked his hair and kneed him in the back. He groaned, sinking to his knees in agony once more.

Kitty could feel Hicks' damp, hot breath on her cheek as he hoarsely observed, "This li'l gal ain't hardly got no clothes on. This is gonna be easy as fallin' off a log..." His hand slid infinitesimally down her torso as Kitty twisted in vain, his arm ruthlessly tightening on her neck. "Be still, whore, or you'll choke..." She was beginning to feel light-headed as he slowly tugged her dress up.

Suddenly something lunged from the bushes and landed on Buford Hicks' back with a strangled howl. It was Henry Small, battering Hicks over the head with his fists, furiously punching and kicking until Kitty's attacker was forced to let her go to defend himself. Lionel Byrd and Cletus Hoke exploded from the shadows to savagely leap on Simon Dooley, with Frank McWharter not far behind. The cowhands began thrashing Dooley in earnest.

Matt staggered to his feet, urgently pulling Kitty away from Hicks' reach. Hicks had managed to wrench Henry from his back and throw him to the ground where he lay wide-eyed with the wind knocked out of him. With a guttural roar, Matt drove a powerful, bone-crunching blow directly at Buford Hicks' nose, sending the man reeling backwards with blood spattering his ruddy face. Matt relentlessly pursued him, thrashing Hicks with his fists until, at last, he crashed into the underbrush in a senseless heap. Matt looked back at his breathless friends, standing over Dooley's unconscious body, and at Henry Small, who was slowly sitting up, clutching his ribs. Matt, bloodied and bruised and gasping for air, collapsed onto his knees again as Kitty rushed to kneel at his side.

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Kitty drove the buggy as swiftly as possible while Matt leaned heavily on her shoulder, so quiet and still she wasn't sure if he was conscious or not. Her heart pounded in her chest with fear. Lionel and Cletus led the way on their horses with Henry bringing up the rear on his own mount. They were headed for the ranch house.

When Matt had fallen to the ground following the brutal fight, Kitty had implored Frank to fetch the doctor, but he regretfully informed her that there was no physician in Brushy Heap. So Frank was riding hard at that instant for the doctor in Beaver Township. Kitty hoped he got back soon. She looked over at her protector for the hundredth time, fretting that he did not look good at all. The pallor of his face beneath the blood and bruises frightened her.

"Whoa!" she called to the horse as they pulled up in front of the Sweetwater Ranch house. Lionel and Cletus tied off their horses and rushed to help Kitty with Matt, awkwardly hauling his lanky body to the porch while Henry banged urgently on the door.

After several long moments passed, Mr. Blessing finally opened up carrrying an oil-burning lamp, jerking his suspenders over his union suit shoulders. "What in tarnation?" he began in exasperation, until Kitty stepped forward, her face drawn with worry.

"Please, Mr. Blessing, you've got to help us. Matt's been hurt," she breathed anxiously.

"Come right in," Blessing amended. "Lay him in the front bedroom there."

The boys carefully eased him through the door and Kitty brought up the rear, murmuring to Mr. Blessing as he held the lamp high, "Thank you, sir. I'll explain everything..."

tbc

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	19. Chapter 19

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 19

"Matt's Injuries"

"_What would Doc do?"_ Kitty Russell anxiously asked herself, sincerely wishing that the cantankerous old physician was standing by her side this very minute as she watched Leland, Cletus and Henry ease Matt's limp body onto the bed. They were in the same bedroom where she'd first changed her clothing a few days before when Leland Blessing gave her both a job and a decent dress to wear. Had it only been a few short days ago that she'd inexplicably arrived in this place...in this time?

"Be careful of his knee!" she warned, stepping between the cowhands to begin unbuttoning Matt's shirt. "Help me with this, Henry. Hold him up...that's it. Cletus, Lionel, take his pants off for me... Don't look at me like that, you two. Just do it. Henry, could you please fetch me a pan of hot water?"

"Y-yes, Miss."

"And some strong soap!" she called after him. "Mr. Blessing, I'll need towels and washcloths. And do you have any whiskey?"

"Yes, little lady, I'll be back with it in a jiffy."

"Which one of you two boys has a knife? Cut his long underwear off for me above the left knee." She muttered distractedly, "I hope it's not broken... Put a pillow under his leg-raise it up some, will you, Lionel? Look at how badly it's swollen. Oh Matt..." Looking down at his handsome face, now bloodied and bruised, eyes swollen shut, lip busted, she had to choke back a sob. _No time for that now_, she thought. _Got to get him cleaned up and as comfortable as possible until the doctor gets here to take care of him._ She thought again of dear old Doc and suddenly instructed, "Boys, go ask Mr. Blessing if he's got anything we can use for bandages, will you? You may have to rip up some old sheets. Hurry..."

Kitty gingerly sat alongside Matt while she waited for them to return with her supplies. She took his big hand in hers, her heart constricting at the sight of the swollen knuckles, cuts and abrasions she found. She smoothed a hand over his cheek, in the only spot that wasn't bruised or bleeding, drawing in a sudden breath when he opened one eye, just a slit. "Matt!"

He tried to talk, but his mouth was bleeding and his puffed up lips made it difficult to get his words out plainly. "K-ki-tty..."

She shushed Matt gently with her fingertips, careful not to hurt him, and said, "Don't try to talk now, you hear me? Frank has gone for the doctor and he should be back soon. In the meantime, I'm gonna fix you up the best I know how. I know I may not look like much of a nurse, but I've got a friend..." Her breath hitched in her chest when Matt, grunting painfully, tried to shift his weight and get in a more comfortable position. She hurried to adjust the pillow behind his head and continued, "I have...a friend where I used to live who taught me a few things about takin' care of folks when they're hurt. Do you trust me, Matt?"

"Y-ye...ss..." he slurred painfully.

"Oh, Cowboy..." She cradled his hand to her chest and whispered, "I'm so sorry this happened to you. It's all my fault..."

"N-no..." he said with more strength than she had thought he could muster. "No..." he repeated. And then he closed his eyes and lay very still. Kitty drew in an alarmed breath, leaning down to place her ear against his chest. She released a sigh of relief when she felt his heart still beating, beating comfortingly in his big chest as it rose and fell with his shallow breaths.

Thankfully, Mr. Blessing and the boys returned, their arms full of clean linens, a basin of hot water, whiskey, and medical supplies.

"Thanks... Set the washpan over here, please. Any sign of Frank?"

"N-n-no, Miss, h-he hasn't had time to make it back yet."

"Hand me a washcloth, Lionel. Did you bring me some soap? I've got to get these wounds cleaned up so they won't get infected." Kitty tied a fresh towel around her waist, anxiously noticing bloodstains on the shoulder of the beautiful, blue silk gown. "Oh, Mr. Blessing, I'm so sorry about this dress. I promise I will try and get it clean."

"Now, my dear, don't you fret none about that dress. That's the least of our worries."

Kitty squeezed the excess water from her washcloth into the basin and soaped the cloth, then began gently smoothing it over Matt's face, wiping away the dried blood. "Could one of you get me some cool water to help with the swelling?"

Henry volunteered, "I-I'll get it, Miss."

"Thank you, Henry," she murmured, frowning as Matt winced at her ministrations. "I'm sorry, Matt. I'm trying not to hurt you, but I've got to get you cleaned up." She bit her lip, working carefully but quickly. "Mr. Blessing, maybe you could give him a sip of that whiskey and that would ease his pain a little."

While Cletus and Lionel hovered behind her, Blessing moved to lift Matt's head, holding the bottle to his mouth. "Here, son, take you a swallow and maybe it'll make you feel a mite better."

Matt cracked an eyelid open, obediently sipping at the whiskey until he choked and coughed.

"Easy now, Matthew... Take another drink. There ya' go..."

Swallowing, Matt fell heavily back on the pillow with a groan, and Kitty continued her careful work, cleaning his hands with the soap and water, rinsing his cuts and abrasions. Henry returned with the basin of cool water, and Kitty soaked strips of cloth, wringing them out with her hands, and placed them over his swollen knee and his eyes. Drying her hands on a towel, she looked back at Mr. Blessing. "There's really nothing more I can do for him. We'll just have to wait for the doctor now."

Mr. Blessing suggested, "Why don't you boys go on outside and wait for Frank to get back?"

"Yessir," they chorused, reluctantly shuffling out the door one at a time, throwing backward glances over their shoulders at their friend.

Blessing sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room, rubbing a hand tiredly over his stubbly features, the shadows cast by the yellow lamplight making him appear craggy and careworn. Matt's steady breathing was a reassuring sign that he was resting comfortably for now, and Kitty delicately smoothed the heavy, dark curls from his damp forehead, resting her hand on his skin to check for fever. She drew a deep, bolstering breath, keeping her eyes steadily on Matt's face and began, "Mr. Blessing, I wanna explain..."

The older man's quiet voice gently interrupted, "No need for explanations, child."

"But..."

"No 'buts', honey. Henry told me what happened."

She glanced over her shoulder in surprise. "But, sir, I feel responsible..."

Firmly, he replied, "You can't help what other people do, Kitty. What those men did was wrong. And Matthew did what he had to do to protect you. That's all there is to it."

Kitty didn't have a chance to argue, for at that moment, Frank burst in the door with the other boys close behind. Her heart skipped a beat, for Frank's face was white as a ghost and he was clearly agitated. She asked, "Frank, what is it? Where's the doctor?"

Frank exclaimed in a breathless rush, "The doc's dead. So's his whole family. Indians attacked tonight near Beaver Township and burned out three homesteads."

tbc

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	20. Chapter 20

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 20

"Bedside Vigil"

A silver-gray moth fluttered aimlessly around the glowing lamplight on the bedside table. The only sound in the dim room was the trickling of water into a porcelain washbasin as Kitty wrung out a fresh cloth to carefully place over Matt's battered features, nearly unrecognizable in their pitifully swollen state. It was the middle of the night, and Kitty could hear coyotes howling a short distance away, their mournful, eerie cries sending an infinitesimal shiver down her spine.

She replaced the damp, cool cloths on Matt's angrily inflamed knee and suddenly he stirred, attempting to shift his hips to a less painful position. He groaned quietly when he tried to move the injured leg, which she'd wrapped tightly to keep the swelling down, propping it on pillows just like she'd seen Doc do in the past... _Or was it the future?_ Everything was so mixed up and it made Kitty's head hurt to contemplate right now.

Kitty winced in sympathy, knowing how much Matt must be hurting, and she adjusted his pillow and blankets in hopes of easing his suffering just a little. Since there was no doctor on the way, she realized there was little more she could do to help him. She prayed he was not bleeding internally from the vicious blows he'd taken to his midsection. For now all she could do was try to reduce the swelling and see that he got complete rest and ample time to heal. What she wouldn't do for a bottle of laudanum right now to ease his obvious pain.

Then the door opened and Leland Blessing entered. Placing his hands on his hips, he murmured, "How is he?"

"Resting quietly," she answered in a hushed voice, looking up at him. "Where are the boys?"

"I've bedded them down in the spare room for the night. There's nothing more they can do here and they need to get some rest." Blessing scrubbed a hand over his face and sat with a groan in an upholstered chair in a shadowy corner of the room. His features turned dark as he added, "I thought it best to keep everbody close together tonight. Until we find out what's goin' on with the Indians anyways." He yawned and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back and stretching out his legs in front of him. "Better to be safe than sorry..." He ended with another wide yawn and tiredly closed his eyes.

Kitty turned back to Matt, picking up a lanky, dark curl, now damp, between two delicate fingers and smoothing it carefully off his forehead. She sighed and stretched, her back aching and her eyes drooping even as she mourned for those poor homesteaders who had lost their lives that very evening.

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Kitty stirred and opened her eyes at a sound. She had drifted off, head lying on her folded arms beside Matt. There it was again, she thought sleepily as she sat up, rubbing at a crick in her neck. The sound was coming from the dark corner. She looked over at Mr. Blessing and he was muttering, crying out in his sleep, crying out for his wife... Kitty's heart lurched and she hurried over, placing a hand on his shoulder. His face was wet with sweat and his expression contorted in grief even in his sleep.

"Mr. Blessing, wake up...you're having a dream. Mr. Blessing..." With a final gentle shake, he started, his hands splaying in the air, a final cry erupting from his lips. His eyes flew wide and he looked at Kitty in confusion and fear, then finally recognition and sadness.

"Are you alright, sir? You were having an awful nightmare." She backed up and sat on the bedside next to Matt, lightly touching his forehead. Then she turned to Blessing again. She asked quietly, pointedly, "Were you dreaming about her?"

Blessing wiped his perspiring face with his sleeve and sighed resignedly. His voice was a hoarse whisper, his tone defeated. "Yeah...yeah, I was. Seems like all this business this evenin' is bringin' it back to me." He looked at Kitty piercingly with gray eyes narrowing at the memories in his tortured mind. He stated bluntly, "It was Indians that did it. You know that bastard Jeremiah Valentine that owns the Lazy J now?"

"Yes..." Kitty replied. She'd heard Matt and the other cowhands often refer to Jeremiah Valentine, his sons and ranch hands disparagingly. Three of them had given Matt a beating this evening when he'd tried to protect her from them. She nodded her head bitterly.

"Well, this was a long time ago. Valentine was just a tippling cowboy back in them days. Drunk all the time. I don't see how he kept steady employment." Blessing shook his head disapprovingly, then continued. "He went on a bender, him and his no-count friends. Got s'drunk they thought disturbing a native burial ground was a fine idea."

Kitty sat silently, letting Mr. Blessing tell his story in his own time.

"The Indians' bodies were wrapped and placed up on wooden platforms, laid out with what they'd need in the afterlife. Valentine and his buddies took weapons, jewelry, whatever they could lay their filthy hands on. They violated a sacred place..."

Blessing's voice drifted away, but Kitty urged him to continue. She wondered if he'd ever talked about the incident before. "What happened then, Mr. Blessing?"

He scratched his unshaven cheek and it sounded like rough sandpaper. "The Indians were angry, and rightly so. They attacked a homestead outside of town. Luckily, the family holed up, fought them off. But it worried me, us livin' way out here. I was worried about Juliet. She was expectin' our first baby."

Blessing's eyes were unfocused, distant, as he remembered his Juliet, heavy with child, sitting on the bed in her cotton nightgown while she brushed that long, dark hair of hers until it glistened in the candlelight. Leland would sit beside her, placing his hand on her belly while their baby kicked, making their eyes light up in utter amazement, contemplating the little life that was growing inside her. Then he'd kiss her softly and lay her back on the bed...

Matt Dillon groaned in his sleep, his mouth contorting in pain as he tried to move his knee, tried to find a position where he could rest easy. Kitty fluffed the feather pillows, pushing them more firmly under his leg, saying "Shh..." and peeling the wet cloths away to dip them in fresh, cool water. In a small, uncertain voice, she asked, "Tell me. What happened to your Juliet, Mr. Blessing?"

He answered in a grieved tone, "I sent her to stay with her parents in town, where I thought she'd be safer." He scrubbed a hand over his mouth, the bitter irony of that decision still weighing mightily on his soul. "Pastor Moon and the Missus, they lived in a parsonage adjoining the church. The Indians saw that as the white man's sacred place, you see..."

His voice strangled and Kitty looked at him with keen despair in her gaze. Her words came out barely as a whisper. "What did they do?"

"In the nighttime, when the whole town was fast asleep..." Blessing rolled his eyes heavenward to stop the tears from escaping his welling eyes. "They burned the church and the parsonage with Juliet and her parents inside...to the ground."

Kitty stood and grasped Mr. Blessing's big, calloused hand, holding it tightly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Blessing. I'm so sorry..." as silent tears rolled down his weatherworn face.

tbc

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	21. Chapter 21

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 21

"Medicine"

"Y-you shoulda' seen it, Miss Kitty. I kept 'spectin' to see a drawer full a' eye of newt!" Henry Small released a boyish giggle, blue eyes shining, nothing like Kitty had ever seen from him before. Maybe young Henry was coming out of his shell, she mused as she listened to him chatter on about stories his ma used to read to him when he was little, before she died of the smallpox.

"I wanna thank you, Henry, for goin' into Brushy Heap to get this stuff for me. Maybe it will help make Matt's swelling go down a little faster and make him feel a whole lot better."

Yesterday, while Matt had slept, Kitty had run across a book of home remedies in Mr. Blessing's library. When she'd shared her discovery with the older man, he'd told her Mr. McCorkle might stock some of those ingredients in his mercantile.

"Oh no, you won't, young lady!" Blessing had declared unwaveringly, hands on hips and lips pressed into a thin line, when she'd suggested she could ride into town and see. He'd added, shaking his head for emphasis, "Not until this Indian scare blows over."

She'd started to protest, but then admitted to herself he was only making sense. So she'd bitten her tongue and parked herself in the comfortably upholstered chair in Matt's bedroom while her patient rested, sedated only with some fine Kentucky bourbon from Mr. Blessing's personal liquor stash. But pretty soon, Henry Small had poked his head in the door, announcing, "B-b-boss says to tell you that me and him are headin' into Brushy Heap to p-pick up a few supplies and c-catch up on the latest news. I-i-indian news, I s'pose."

She'd bitten her lip to keep from grinning but gratefully dashed off a hastily scrawled list of the ingredients she needed to make Matt's medicine, entreating Henry to be very careful and keep a wary eye out.

Now she and Henry were in the cook shack, melting together lard and beeswax and linseed oil, cooking elder bark and straining it, then mixing it all together to make a healing salve. Mr. Blessing had also purchased some witch hazel that would help to reduce Matt's swelling. The whole time she was busily working, Henry was trailing after her, animatedly relating details of Mr. McCorkle's dusty back room that held small wooden drawers of mysterious, smelly things, dried and powdered, like snakeroot, rutabaga seed, dogwood bark, horehound, pennyroyal, camphor, alum, and bloodroot-therefore Henry's expectations at seeing some stomach-churning ingredients fit for a proper witch's brew like lizard tails and frog hearts.

Kitty chuckled and wiped her hands on her apron one last time. She'd put her homemade healing concoctions in small crocks with lids and set them on the kitchen table. She looked over at Henry, who was now grunting as he hauled in a heavy bucket of water for her to clean up the mess they'd made. On impulse, she placed her hands on Henry's shoulders when he set the bucket by the stove, looking him squarely in the eye. "Henry, I need to tell you how grateful I am..." she began.

He interrupted, "Y-you done told me, Miss. I was glad t' go with Boss to get them things for you in t-town." He smiled shyly.

"No, that's not what I meant. I'm also very grateful for what you did the other night." She clasped his big, awkward hands in her own. "It took a lot of guts to jump in there like you did, and I just want you to know how much I appreciate it. You're a brave young man, Henry Small."

A rosy blush was rapidly traveling across his face. He ducked his head, unable to look at her. "I-I just did what I had to, M-miss. Couldn't let anything happen to y-you."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close, laying her cheek alongside his flushed face. She whispered, "Thank you, Henry..." and then pulled away. Beaming at him, she handed him one of the crocks and said, "Help me carry this to Matt's room, will ya'?

"Y-yes, Miss!"

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"Golly, Kitty, that stuff smells like sh-"

"Oh, don't think you're gonna flatter me with that kinda' talk, Cowboy. Now be still," she instructed as she gingerly smeared his face with greasy ointment.

Henry, standing behind her, got tickled.

Peering at him through swollen eyes that were turning various shades of black and blue, Matt groused, "Don't you have work to do, kid?"

"Oh, Matt, he's been helping me! Don't be so hard on him. Here, Henry, hand me that medicine and you can go find Mr. Blessing and see what he might need. No need in hanging around here if this big ol' sourpuss is just going to fuss at you."

Henry grinned with wide, white teeth and chuckled, "Yes, Miss. H-hope you feel better soon, M-matt. S-see ya' later."

"Later, Henry," she called. "...and thanks again." She shot the boy a look over her shoulder and smiled, "I meant what I said earlier," making him flush red from his hairline down to his collar. He smiled back shyly and scooted out the bedroom door.

Matt asked curiously, "What'd you say to him?"

Kitty smoothed some ointment over his busted lip as gently as she could. "Ohh, I just told him 'thank you.'"

"Thank you?"

"Yes, Matt, that boy was mighty brave the other night, jumping on the back of that giant bully the way he did."

"Oh...yeah." Matt smiled as best he could with a swollen mouth, scabbed over at the corner. "He was. I guess I was fightin' a losin' battle at that point."

"Matt, you were outnumbered three to one!"

"I know, but..."

"No 'buts', Cowboy. You did your best."

"I don't think my best would have been good enough to save you."

She lightly placed a finger on his puffy lips. "Don't you dare say that. I'll be forever grateful for what you did for me." She held his face between her palms and looked at his poor, battered features. "I am so sorry for what they did to you, Matt, I really am." Her eyes suddenly burned with unshed tears. "I feel like it's all my fault, that you're hurt so bad..."

"Absolutely not, Kitty Russell. I won't listen to that kinda talk from you. You hear me?" His discolored eyes narrowed as he staunchly spoke. "You think I could actually stand by...?" He shook his head in determination. "Those men oughta' be locked up, but we don't have any law here in Brushy Heap, Kitty. So I've got to stand up and fight for what's right. Or else bad things could happen..." He looked straight at her and added fervently, "...to good people...like you."

She was holding his hand in hers, smoothing ointment over his knuckles. "And I thank you for it, Matt Dillon." Her stomach had lurched at his mention of the "law". She anxiously wondered if this young man had any inklings in that direction. She leaned over and quickly brushed her lips over his forehead, the only spot where he wasn't greasy or swollen or scabby. "You're a sight for sore eyes, you know that?"

He snorted out a little laugh and asked, "You think when I'm all better you'll wanna go to another dance with me?"

Her heart leapt in her chest a little, and she spoke low as she moved to unbandage his knee, "I would be proud to go to another dance with you, Matt." She began rubbing medicine over the injured flesh, and looked up at him earnestly, reiterating, "Mighty proud..."

tbc

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	22. Chapter 22

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 22

"Freddie's News"

"Freddie, you didn't!" Kitty exclaimed, hands on hips and eyes shining happily, powdery white streaking one rosy cheek.

"I sure did!" he shot back proudly, standing extra tall with black smears on his wide forehead and big knuckles.

"Oh, Freddie, I'm so proud of you!" she gushed and had to reach high to give him an enthusiastic bear hug.

"Better watch out, I'll get you filthy," he grinned.

"Oh, I don't care. I'm covered in flour already," she, declared, dusting her hands on her apron.

"I tried checking out the equipment when I looked the property over, but truthfully I wouldn't know if it was working right or not. Here, let me wash this ink off and I'll help you get dinner made. Thanks for covering for me at breakfast."

"No problem." She awkwardly rubbed at her itching nose with the back of her hand, hoping her face wasn't now coated in flour. "You covered for me while I've been taking care of Matt."

"Well, it was sure a lot easier since you taught me a few things about cooking for a buncha' ravenous cowboys. Hey, speaking of cowboys, how's your patient?" Freddie scrubbed his hands with lye soap, splashing noisily in the porcelain wash basin.

"Matt's doing much better. I'll go sit with him after I finish here. You haven't been in to see him today? You'd better go tell him your news." Kitty's face fell with sudden realization. "Oh, Freddie, we won't be working together anymore."

"Well, you haven't gotten rid of me just yet. The place isn't officially mine, not until the paperwork goes through. There are deeds and wills and real estate contracts. The late owner's family is back in St. Louis. That's why I got the place for a song. They were eager to get it off their hands. The owner died two years ago and they haven't had a single interested buyer. Except me."

"Just think..." Kitty's face lit up in a smile as she rolled out biscuit dough. "You're gonna own a newspaper!"

He cast a glance over his shoulder at her. "Yeah, I'll be publisher and printer..."

She added lightly, "And reporter..."

"Of the Brushy Heap Bugle! Read all about it!" He quickly dried his hands and began slicing potatoes into a bowl of salt water. "It's all because of you, Kitty."

"Oh, Freddie, all I did was give you a little advice. You did all the work."

"Yeah, but I never woulda' tried if you hadn't had faith in me." He shook his head.

"I'm not so sure. I think you had it in you all the time." She floured the edges of a clean, empty tin can and began cutting out circles of fluffy dough. "You just needed a little friendly push."

"Hey, maybe we can have a recipe section in the Bugle. We can call it 'Kitty's Kitchen.' Whatcha' think?"

"Oh, I don't think I'm quite ready for that. And remember, I'll have my hands full when you leave for good."

"Ah, I think you can handle things just fine without me, young lady."

"I'm not so sure. Those boys sure can put away a lot of turnip greens. You may have to moonlight for a while until I get used to working on my own. I don't know what I'll do without you!" Placing the last of the biscuits in a pan, she dusted her hands together, her expression gone serious. "Freddie, did you hear any more news in town? About the attacks, I mean?"

"Nah," he answered in a low voice. "Everything's still quiet. No more Indian trouble. It's like they struck quickly and disappeared like ghosts in the night."

Kitty gave a shiver. "Those poor people. It's just awful. And now we don't have a doctor either. Mr. Blessing says the doc's wife and son were killed as well. They lived on a small farm outside of Beaver Township."

"Scary is what it is. Are you still staying in the ranch house tonight?"

"Yes, I guess until Mr. Blessing feels like it's safe. He worries. He has good reason to." Kitty suddenly changed the subject. "What do you say we cook cherry pie for dessert? The fruit on that tree out back is ripe enough and it'd be a real treat for the boys."

"I think that sounds like a wonderful idea, Miss Kitty. I'll go pick the cherries if you'll make the pie crust. That's one thing I'm still not so good at."

"It's a deal," she declared.

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Come evening, the ranch house was so serene and quiet you could hear the crickets singing from clear outside. Leland Blessing was settled in his bedroom for the night. With no further Indian attacks, he'd agreed to let Frank, Lionel, Cletus and Henry return to the bunkhouse since they each had their own bed there and no one would be unhappily forced to sleep on a cold, hard wooden floor. But Blessing was still unwilling to allow Kitty to stay in the lonesome little cabin by herself since it was several minutes away by horse. Kitty understood his fear and didn't argue. Besides, she could bed down in the guestroom now that the boys had gone and still be close at hand to see after Matt.

He was doing much better, but he'd sure enough taken a severe beating that fateful night. She wouldn't doubt his innards were as bruised as the obvious, outward black and blue marks which were rapidly turning purple and green. Thankfully, the swelling on his face and hands was going down so he looked more like himself, but it was still difficult for him to eat and bathe and walk. He could hobble around a little with a crutch, but it was slow going and awkward, not to mention frustrating. He wore out pretty quickly and still slept for long periods of time.

Kitty was downright amazed that she hadn't been forced to resort to threats and outright sitting on top of Matt to keep him in his sick bed. This young Matt was a hell of a lot less stubborn than the one she was familiar with. So she just kept him well-fed and well-medicated, slathering his injured parts with plenty of herbal ointments and pouring sufficient whiskey down his gullet to make him sleepy. She just counted her blessings that he was willing to stay put for the time being. But she also fully realized that this Matt didn't have a whole town relying on him for protection, and taking time to heal properly was a necessity and not a luxury.

She'd padded through the front parlor in her white cotton nightgown and shawl, barefooted since she didn't actually own a pair of slippers and didn't want to wake anyone by clattering on the wooden floor in regular shoes. She was grateful that Mr. Blessing had given her the nightclothes to wear, and, not for the first time, sighed with wonder at the serendipity she'd had in ending up here with such kind people who'd looked out for her well-being when she was so alone in the world and utterly vulnerable. But she'd landed here with Matt, so maybe it wasn't luck a'tall. He always managed to attract good people to him, wherever he went. So she supposed she really shouldn't be surprised after all.

Cracking his door open, she peeped in to make sure he was resting comfortably, smiling when she glimpsed him lying in the pale silver moonlight shining through the open window, a gentle breeze fragrant with honeysuckle blossoms blowing the curtains. His features, in spite of the bruises, were so boyish and fetching. She'd had to catch herself a dozen times a day, wanting to thread her fingers through those soft, lanky curls of his that tended to fall on his forehead so charmingly. She knew he was not even vaguely aware of how his handsome features completely devastated her, and maybe she should just be a little glad of that, she thought.

With a start, she realized his eyes were open, looking back at her without a word.

"I hope I didn't wake you," she whispered.

He murmured back, "I couldn't sleep."

"Me neither," she admitted.

"Come in." He was still watching her intently. "Talk to me."

"I'm not dressed," she protested, but thought with amusement how roused her older, mature Matt would've become by that declaration and how very quickly he would have endeavored to divest her of the remainder of her scanty attire.

"Oh, come on in here. I won't bite."

_Au contraire_, she thought. She was more than reasonably certain Matt Dillon was perfectly capable of biting when he was of a notion. Instead she teased, "You sure?"

"You're safe with me, I promise." His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Melting a little inside at that irresistible face, she smiled warmly at him. "I believe you." Then she closed the door behind her and moved to lower herself into the chair.

"No, sit over here by me." He patted the bed beside him, where she'd sat earlier that afternoon and helped feed him a supper of leftover steak and fried potatoes with cherry pie for dessert. Managing a knife and a fork with his busted up knuckles was still a pretty dicey feat for him.

"Maaatt," she drawled.

"What? I just wanna see how pretty you are is all. It's dark in here and I can't see you good way over there."

He scooted over just a little bit, but not too awful much, so that she'd still be obliged to sit right up next to him. She could feel those roving blue eyes trailing over her, taking in her appearance even here in the near dark, and she smiled in spite of herself. Matt never could pass up a chance to look a pretty woman over. He'd never change. She feigned petulance. "Are you satisfied now?"

He sat back looking like the cat who'd caught the canary, lightly lacing his fingers behind his head. "Yep."

She noticed her young cowboy was still busy looking his fill. "How are you feeling this evening?" she inquired, but she knew he must assuredly be on the upswing, what with the way he was acting.

He dropped his arms gloomily into his lap. "A little stir crazy."

Absently scratching her nose, she repeated, "Stir crazy, huh?"

"Yep. These four walls are startin' t' close in on me a little. Sure wish I could get out and about."

She looked him square in the eye. "Well, I don't think you're quite ready to go back to ridin' horses and mendin' fences, Cowboy."

"I know, I know... I don't think I'm quite up to that either, but, golly, I sure could use a breath of fresh air!" He dropped his head back with a plop onto the pillow and exhaled dramatically.

"Hmm... Well, maybe I can arrange somethin' then." Nonchalantly, she examined her fingernails.

He sat up a little too quickly, grabbing his sore side with a small grunt. "What exactly do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know..." She laced her fingers in her lap. "Maybe I could manage to sneak away from the kitchen long enough for us to go on a little picnic. That is if Mr. Blessing will let us borrow his buggy again."

"Oh, I'm sure he will," Matt agreed confidently, scrubbing his fingers through his tousled hair. "Especially if you ask him. He likes you, Kitty."

"You think so? I like him." She looked down at her hands lying quietly in her lap. "He's been awfully good to me."

Matt placed his big, bandaged hand over Kitty's. "I like you, too, Kitty." His thumb teasingly caressed her skin. "You've been good to me, takin' care of me like you have... You're awful smart. A lot of girls wouldn't have known what to do. Because of your doctoring, I think I'll be feelin' good as new in no time a'tall."

She sighed, "I hope so, Matt. I feel responsible for getting you in this mess in the first pl-"

"Now, there you go again!" he firmly interrupted. "I told you I'll not have any of that talk. You hear me?"

She looked up at him in surprise at his vehemence. It must've shown on her face.

"I'm sorry, Kitty. I just don't want you feeling bad about something that's not really your fault." He touched her cheek and there in the dim moonlight, she saw him lean closer to her and ask, "Can I have just one kiss? Just one kiss and then you can go..."

She wasn't sure but she thought she heard herself whisper, "Yes..." because then his lips tenderly touched hers in the honeysuckle-perfumed darkness, brushing so softly she wasn't sure if it was his mouth or his breath on her flesh. His hand slid round her waist to the small of her back and it was warm, so very warm through the thin fabric of her cotton nightgown. It was such a small, romantic kiss from a youthful gentleman cowboy to his sweetheart that it made her chest ache.

And just like that it was over. He pulled away and touched her throat and whispered, "Good night, Kitten. You'd better go to bed now." He held her hands while she rose on unsteady legs and backed up a few steps, gazing at her young man sitting there in the bed, face battered but his heart shining in his eyes. Right before she closed the door, she whispered, "Night, Cowboy..."

tbc

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	23. Chapter 23

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 23

"Picnic by the Creek"

Catalpa blossoms drifted down from the tree towering above Matt and Kitty's picnic blanket while they savored the last sweet-tart bites of delicious, homemade cherry pie. There'd been one big piece leftover from yesterday, and Kitty had carefully wrapped it up for their picnic by the creek, along with cold roast beef sandwiches, potato pancakes, hard-boiled eggs, and a few other odds and ends she'd managed to scrape up from the kitchen. Matt had always been a big eater even when she first met him in Dodge, but young Matt Dillon could put away a powerful lot of food, so she wanted to be sure and pack plenty. The two shared the pie between them with one fork right out of the pan. Matt couldn't resist-he raked a finger over a last bit of gooey red syrup on the bottom of the dish and licked it off with a happy groan. "Kitty, that was sure good eatin'."

She grinned, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin she had placed carefully over her lap. "Glad you liked it." She was thankful she hadn't dripped any of the sticky red fruit on her pale peach, dotted muslin dress. Yesterday she'd found another gossamer, old-fashioned dress lying on her bed, compliments of her "fairy-godfather", Mr. Blessing. She'd discovered it carefully spread over the quilt not long after she'd asked him if she could go with Matt for a little afternoon picnic provided she got her dinner chores done early. She knew she and Freddie could whip up something tasty that he could warm up later and serve to the cowhands easily by himself.

Mr. Blessing had been very amenable to the idea, nodding with a little twinkle in his eye, and later she'd found the empire-waisted gown with dainty, puffed short sleeves made from a gauzy fabric so soft and beautiful she was afraid she'd ruin it and quickly told him so. But he'd shaken his head and waved away her reservations. "That there dress is not doin' anybody any good a'tall sittin' folded up in a chest. You wear that dress, but just be sure and come let me see ya' before you go. I wanna see how purty it looks on you."

So she'd done as he asked, twirling in front of him as his eyes misted with tears, a distant, pained expression on his face for just an instant. Kitty had stopped and kneeled before the older man's chair, grabbing his hands and pressing them gently in hers. "I don't hafta wear this dress, Mr. Blessing, really I don't. It's bringing back unhappy memories for you. I'll go change back."

"No..." And he'd stopped her with his hands on her shoulders, shaking his head again. "No, you look as purty as a picture, child. That dress is yours. And I think maybe my Juliet might just be settin' in heaven, lookin' down on you right now." He nodded his head firmly, his gray eyes liquid with unshed tears, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Yep, I think she might. You go with your young man and have you a good time, now, you hear?"

Kitty had gently smiled and placed a quick peck on his sandpapery cheek. Then with a last squeeze of his hands, she'd hurried out the door to join Matt in the buggy. The boys had helped to load him in since he still had a bad knee, but he'd packed his crutch to help him once they arrived at their destination. Matt had taken the reins and tipped his hat to his friends, while Kitty waved to them, trying not to chuckle at their doleful expressions. "They look like they're goin' to a funeral."

Eyes on the horse, Matt commented knowingly, "They're a mite jealous that I'm takin' the prettiest girl in the county on a picnic."

She felt his gaze shift to her. And no matter how many times Matt Dillon did that thing where his blue eyes raked over her appraisingly, it always managed to make a tiny little shiver travel straight down her spine and end up scandalously somewhere around her nether regions. Now was no exception.

His voice was deep and soft. "And you sure do look awful pretty today, Kitty."

Kitty took a deep breath, smoothing her skirt and gingerly touching the bodice. "Mr. Blessing again. He's spoilin' me, Matt."

"You deserve spoilin', Kitty Russell."

She'd laughed then, a girlish peal of pleasure that had hit him square in his chest and traveled all the way down to his toes. He liked making Kitty laugh and he answered with a big, heartfelt smile of his own. She'd then leaned into him, holding his arm familiarly in a way that made him feel content, and they had driven the rest of the way in peaceful silence, enjoying the beautiful day.

Matt had managed to sneak a look over at his beautiful companion from time to time, marveling at her big sapphire-colored eyes and red hair that the sunlight set on fire, and her trim figure that swelled generously in all the right places. But above all he'd wondered at the fact that this stunning girl should be so accomplished at putting him completely at ease.

"Whoa," he had called to the horse, coming to stop at a small grove of catalpa trees that grew near the creek. Before he'd even had a chance to secure the reins, Kitty had hitched up her pastel skirts and nimbly hopped down out of the buggy. "You're only young once..." she'd murmured with pleasure at the agility she had discovered accompanying her rediscovered youth.

"What'd you say, Kitty? Hey, wait a minute," he'd mildly protested as she offered her hand to him. "I'm supposed to be helpin' _you_ outta the buggy, not the other way around."

"I'm not injured," she had stated unequivocally. "Give me your hand, Cowboy."

He had cast her a doubtful eye.

"Now, this buggy is jiggly and you can't hop one-legged out of a jiggly buggy without breaking your neck. Just put your hand on my shoulder for balance."

"Alright, but maybe you shouldn't mention this to the boys. They'd never let me live it down."

"I know, and I wouldn't dream of it." She had tilted her eyes up at him when he placed a hand on her bare shoulder. The sleeves were barely sleeves at all. "I'm not that kinda girl."

"You're not what kinda girl?" He had braced his other hand on the buggy and awkwardly hopped down. She managed to oof only slightly.

Kitty had looked up at him, squinting in the bright sunlight, and replied, "The kind who kisses and tells, of course."

"Ohh..." He'd waited a beat. "Good to know."

"You bet it is." She'd given a ladylike sniff and grabbed a quilt from the buggy while Matt had secured his crutch under his arm and took the picnic basket, covered with a red checked napkin, in his other hand. "Oh, let me carry that, Matt!"

"You packed it for us. I can carry it."

"It's awful heavy. I packed plenty," she'd warned balefully as she walked beside him.

"Is this place okay?" he'd asked, and they had spread their quilt on the grass in the deep shade, where they could see the water sparkling in the sunshine and watch the billowing white clouds scudding across the prairie. Then they'd eaten their fill of the food Kitty had packed, talking quietly about inconsequential things like the weather and the food, their friends and their jobs. Now they rested, bellies full and small talk exhausted. They both sat, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, arms extended bracing them from behind while they watched fish jump in the water, trying to catch the dragonflies skimming the surface.

"You feel better now?" Kitty asked.

"Yeah, I was hungry as a bear." Matt rubbed his stomach.

"I don't mean that." She looked over at him and amended, "Well, I'm glad you aren't hungry anymore. A hungry bear is not good company." She arched a brow at him. "But do you feel better now that you've gotten out for a while?"

"Oh, that!" Matt took off his hat and threw it on a corner of the blanket, and Kitty admired his thick curls as he raked his fingers through his dark hair. "Yeah, Kitty, I sure appreciate you gettin' me outta the house." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "I tend to get a little cabin fever if I get stuck in one place for too long."

"Ya' don't say," Kitty answered knowingly.

"I'm not too much of an indoor fella'. I like bein' outside." He expanded his arms. "Where I can breathe."

"You sure do, Cowboy. I guess you'll always need a job where you can get out and breathe." She turned her head and gave him a little grin. "From time to time."

"I can't imagine myself doing any work where I'd be lassoed to a desk, doing paperwork all day." He grimaced. "That would be terrible."

"Yeah, I know how you hate paperwork."

"You do?"

"Well, I can imagine how you'd hate it, that's all." She cleared her throat. "So you're not a city boy, huh?"

"Nope."

"I didn't think so." She smiled and smoothed the blanket between them, enjoying the softness of the cotton quilting that'd been washed so many times over the years and wondered who else might have enjoyed a picnic sitting on it.

"What about you?" he asked suddenly.

"Big cities? I like to visit them on occasion." She adjusted the soft gossamer skirt over her legs, thankful there was at least a thin underskirt to cover her. She couldn't imagine wearing these flimsy, figure-revealing gowns all the time. "They have great food, Matt. You'd like that."

"Oh, I like your cookin' just fine, Kitty. What do I need to travel to a big city for?"

"Matt, you are a flatterer. I'm really not that good. I can cook passable and I can cook plenty. You boys just aren't too choosy, thank goodness."

He felt his blue eyes on her and she turned to watch him say, "You haven't answered my question."

She murmured, "What do you mean?'

"I meant, what about your future? What lies ahead for Kitty Russell?"

"I'm... I'm not sure."

"Don't you have hopes and dreams?" He aimlessly scratched his chin, but watched her carefully.

_Hopes and dreams._ She'd never gotten this kinda talk outta Matt before. _Ah, youth..._ "Yeah, I've got hopes and dreams. But they always seem to get pushed to the backburner, for some reason or another."

"Why?"

"I... I really don't know_." Yes, I do know, but I can't tell you it's because I'm always waiting for you, Matt Dillon. And you'll never be ready, I'm afraid. I'll be waiting for you forever..._ She gave a mirthless chuckle and said aloud, "I guess I'm just waiting."

"Waiting, huh?" He looked speculative. "I think I might like the sound of that."

"You do?" She sounded surprised.

"Yeah, cause if you already had somebody—I mean some_thing_—picked out for your future, then I wouldn't like that very much."

"You wouldn't?" She scooted a little closer to her handsome companion, just to get a whiff of that scent that always drove her crazy, an intoxicating mixture of soap and horses, leather and sweat, but mostly it was just pure Matt.

"Nope." His words were sparse, but his arm spoke for him when it slid around her shoulders, pulling her even closer.

Suddenly, her mouth flew open of its own accord, her conscience taking over, feeling protective of this sweet, earnest, virtuous young man, and she burst out, "Matt, there are some things you might want to know about me. I... I..."

But he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her words. "Kitty, hush now."

"But, Matt, I think..."

"I think that you are the nicest, prettiest, smartest girl I ever met." His finger traced beneath her lower lip.

"You do?" she whispered.

"Yep, I do. And, funny enough, I feel as though I've known you my whole life."

"Oh, if you only knew..."

He cut her off again. "You make me happy. As far as I'm concerned, nothing is important before the day I met you." He squinted one eye thoughtfully. "Does that make sense?"

She mutely nodded because in a crazy roundabout way, it did.

"I... Kitty, I don't think anything bad you might want to tell me will make any difference in how I feel about you."

"Are you sure?"

He leaned closer, his breath brushing her face, his musky, male scent filling her senses. "Oh, I'm positive, honey. I think you're just about perfect, and so nothing else matters, alright?"

"Alright." She leaned closer, her lips parting in invitation as she whispered, "Kiss me, Matt."

So he kissed her under the catalpa tree, a breeze whispering warmly through Kitty's shining little red curls that had escaped from their pins while Matt's strong hands stroked her impossibly soft, bare arms. They kissed, clinging to one another tightly, lips sweetly saying all that their hearts hadn't been able to express aloud.

tbc

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	24. Chapter 24

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 24

"Local Wildlife"

"Freddie, when do you think you'll be able to publish your first edition?" Kitty asked, dusting flour from her hands and scratching her cheek. It seemed a body's face always started to itch as soon as her hands got messy.

"It won't be soon enough for me!" her tall, gangly companion answered excitedly. "Of course, the first edition won't be much to write home about. I don't have time to research stories yet."

"I know, Freddie, but I sure do appreciate your help around here." She looked at him pointedly. "Besides, this steady paycheck from Mr. Blessing is gonna help pay for that ring, isn't it?"

He grinned sheepishly, casting his dark eyes at the ceiling. "Yeah, you're right."

"When are you gonna ask Celia?"

"I don't know, Kitty. I just feel like I need to establish myself with my newspaper first. Make her pa understand that I can take care of her. I'd like to be living in town, over the newspaper office, when I get around to popping the question."

"That's a step toward financial independence." She picked up a bucket. "I'm going out back for some rainwater to wash these dishes. I'll be right back."

"Sure thing. I'm almost done cutting up these fryers."

She stepped outside, heading for the corner of the building where the rain barrel was sitting against the wall when a large hand wrapped around her mouth. She gave a muffled cry as her back was pushed up against the cook shack wall. A pair of crystal blue eyes twinkled mischievously at her from beneath a gray hat brim as he removed his hand from her mouth. She placed a fist on one hip, scolding, "Why, Matthew Dillon, you scared the living day-"

Any further protest was unceremoniously cut off as his lips closed over hers, kissing the nearly aforementioned daylights right out of her. She dropped her water bucket with a hollow-sounding plunk, sliding her arms around his neck and kissing him back fiercely until they were both breathless.

Suddenly she heard Freddie call out from inside, "You okay out there?"

Their lips broke apart, Kitty's eyes wide with surprise that Matt Dillon had risked kissing her where someone might see. Matt first brushed his hand over some flour on her cheek and then raised a finger to his lips.

She called loudly, "Oh, I'm just fine and dandy, Freddie. Enjoying the local wildlife, you might say."

Matt threw back his head in silent laughter, then kissed her on her floury cheek, tipped his hat and walked away without a word. She watched him go, a sight that any red-blooded girl would fully appreciate, then sighed, picked up her abandoned bucket and headed for the rain barrel.

That Matt Dillon was full of surprises these days. Just two nights ago, she'd been lying in bed, back in her little cabin since there'd been no more Indian scares, although Mr. Blessing would have actually preferred she just stay on in his guest room. But Kitty liked having her own space, a place to call her own, even if it was just borrowed.

She'd been surprised how much she enjoyed living out in the countryside. She'd always thought of herself as a city girl, but here the air here was clean and fresh, not like the crowded towns, stinking with animal waste in the streets, privies, garbage and unwashed bodies. It was so peaceful at night without the noise of rowdy drunks, boisterous cowboys, raucous music, and even the occasional gunfight. Out here a person could hear herself think. And breathe. And sometimes it was so still, with not even a breeze stirring the grass, that you could almost hear your own heartbeat, if you listened real close.

Her first night back, she'd been lying contentedly in bed, thinking she probably wasn't able to sleep because of the bewitching full moon streaming through her windows, not to mention the fact that the soft lilac blossom-scented breeze billowing the curtains served to waken her senses. She had listened to the night sounds, coyotes yipping themselves into a good howl, owls hooting from a distance, crickets and frogs and...was that a soft knock at her door?

Now, that wasn't natural phenomena. Slipping out of bed, she'd peeped out the front window and seen the outline of a familiar tall drink of water standing at her door. "Matt!" she'd whispered, although she wasn't sure why she was being so quiet. There wasn't a soul save the two of them for miles around. She'd hurried to open her door and Matt's eyes flew wide at the sight of her in a skimpy little chemise falling off one creamy, bare shoulder.

"Kitty, you're gonna catch your death runnin' around in that. Do you always answer the door that way?" His voice had squeaked at the end of the sentence, but Kitty noticed his eyes were drinking her in all the same.

"Oh, Matt, I knew it was just you, and..." She'd placed a hand on her hip. "...do you always go around knocking on ladies' doors in the middle of the night? What if I was gettin' my beauty rest?" Then she had noticed something wriggling under Matt's arm in the moonlight. "What on earth? Matt, what have you got there?"

He'd grinned and held out a squirming, whimpering, fuzzy pup. She had scooped it into her arms with a squeal of delight. "Oh, Matt!" Grabbing Matt's hand, she'd pulled him inside and sat on the edge of the rumpled bed with the friendly pup trying to lick her face. "Oh my, you are a sweet one, you are! What's his name?"

"Her name. And I don't know. I figured since she's your dog, you get to name her." He had quickly struck a match and lit a lamp.

"Really? She's mine? You're giving her to me?"

"I worry about you here by yourself, Kitty. This is an Australian Shepherd and she'll take good care of you. They're very protective of their owners and their property."

Kitty had scratched the ears of her pup until it rolled over in her lap, exposing its belly for a potential rub. "Matt, she's got blue eyes!"

"Just like you, Kitty. And she's a redhead, too. Mixed with a little cream. I thought you two might have a lot in common."

Kitty had never owned a dog in her entire life. Not when she was a storm-tossed child with a sickly mother, and not when she was an adult, doing any and everything she could to make a living. She'd never had the time, the money or the space. She held out her hand to Matt and pulled him down on the bed next to her. Then she had thrown her arms around his neck and squeezed tight, whispering, "Thank you, Matt," until the pup leapt on them both, bathing them with sloppy kisses. They broke apart laughing, and Kitty said, "I think your name might be Daisy. What do you think?"

The liver and cream merled pup yipped a sassy reply, and Matt warned, "You'd better take her outside since we've got her all het up. She might have to go."

"Go? Ohhh, _go_. Yeah, me and Daisy will head outside for a few minutes." She stood and held out her hand, "Come on, Matt."

And they'd gone outside in the middle of the night to play with her little dog. She wondered now what young Matt Dillon had thought of her, traipsing around with him and the dog outside in her filmy cotton nightgown. But she was so used to being with the man in her altogether, she thought with a raucous laugh, and mature Matt would consider wearing nightclothes being completely overdressed.

Oh well, he hadn't said a word. In fact he'd even pulled her to him that night and kissed her heatedly, his tongue sliding slickly into her mouth until she uttered a soft sound that made him press her even more urgently against him. His hand had slid around to the small of her back, caressing her warmly and insistently in that vulnerable spot, setting her on fire. She'd moaned, pressing her full, unbound breasts to his chest, slipping her arms around his neck and deepening her own kiss. Then he'd broken away from her, breathless, heavy-lidded with passion, whispering hoarsely, "I better go."

She sighed in exasperation, "Do you have to?"

"I need to..." He touched her playfully on the nose with the tip of his finger. "...or I can't be held responsible for my actions."

She'd groaned as he jumped on his horse and tipped his hat, leaving her standing in the yard in the moonlight with her squirming pup Daisy in her arms. _God, the man had a will of iron._

So young Matt Dillon was sure enough a man full of surprises. She realized they were meeting under different circumstances at a different time. But at heart, he was the same stalwart man of integrity she'd always known and loved. But it seemed this one was able to be a little freer with his love.

Freddie's voice from the kitchen pulled her from her reverie. "Hey, this little mutt of yours is chewing on my pants leg!"

"Daisy!" Kitty scolded as she carried the sloshing bucket of water back inside. "Bad girl! Out!" She pointed out the front door, and Daisy, smart as a whip and easy to train so far, did as she was told, lying obediently outside the door until she spotted a rabbit in the yard and tore off after it at top bumbling puppy speed.

Kitty stood at the door, chuckling at her little bundle of endless energy as she chased the rabbit. It was a good thing her bones were younger now, the better to keep up with her furry ball of fire.

She spotted Matt across at the barn and he was watching her. When he saw her looking back, he touched his hat, grinned and headed back inside to get to work.

tbc

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	25. Chapter 25

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 25

"Looking to the Future"

"Ready...one...two...three!" Matt, Freddie, and Henry groaned, the muscles in their necks and arms straining as they moved the heavy piece of equipment a few inches to the right and set it down again quickly.

"Whew! I didn't realize this thing was so heavy. Where exactly do you want it?" Matt asked.

Freddie pointed to a spot next to the front window. "Right there. Where people can see the printing press at work. I figure it's free advertisement for folks walking by."

"Yeah, but it's sure taking a toll on my back. Henry, you ready again?"

"Y-yep." Henry Small wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and then clapped them together. "R-ready!"

All three braced themselves and managed to move the press much farther this time. While they rested and took a deep breath, Freddie urged, "Only a couple more feet. Ready again? Now!"

With a floor-rattling thud, they released the newspaper printing press in its new spot in front of the plate glass window painted with fancy lettering saying, "Brushy Heap Bugle."

Freddie breathed, "Thanks, boys. Not only will the press draw interest from passers-by, but it'll definitely help having more light to work by."

Matt eyed the complicated-looking machinery, turning a wooden chair around and sitting in it backwards. "You sure you know how to use this thing?"

"Uh, not really. But how difficult can it be?" Freddie grabbed his own chair, sitting down facing Matt with an ankle resting on his other knee, hands folded in his lap.

Curling his upper lip, Henry replied, "L-l-looks pretty hard to me." He dropped down on the dusty floor with his back leaning against the wall.

"Me too, kid," Matt agreed, pushing his hat back on his forehead. "You think you'll need some help around here to run this place?"

Freddie inquired curiously, "You volunteering?"

"I w-will!" Henry exclaimed, suddenly adding in a low voice, "If it ain't anything too hard, that is. I ain't real s-smart."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short, kid! You don't know if you can do something until you try! I bet you could help me run this press." Freddie looked at Henry unwaveringly. "And I bet you could sell papers, too."

Henry looked taken aback at the very idea. "R-really? You think so?"

"Now, I don't know that I could pay you a lot." Freddie looked doubtful. "Actually, I probably wouldn't be able to pay you at all until I turn a profit."

"You d-don't hafta pay me nothin', Freddie. I'd do it as a f-favor." His cheeks turned pink. "Cause you're my f-friend."

Freddie rose halfway off his seat and extended his huge hand to Henry, "It's a deal, friend. And I'll pay you back with interest, I promise."

Henry's face beamed, "S-s-sure, Freddie."

Matt smiled. "I'll be glad to help you out whenever I can, buddy, but to tell you the truth, I don't know that I'll have a lot of extra time on my hands."

"What, you wanna spend all your extra time with a pretty little redhead I currently work with?"

Matt protested, "No, not at all." Then he shook his head and hastily corrected himself. "No, that's not what I meant. I'd really like to spend a lot more time with Kitty, but I may be taking on some extra responsibilities around the ranch soon."

Both Freddie and Henry waited expectantly.

Matt rubbed a thoughtful hand over his chin. "Well, it seems Boss has asked if I'd be interested in taking over some of his responsibilities."

"Wh-what does that mean, Matt?"

"He wants me to be his foreman. He says he's gettin' too damn old for all this foolishness and wants to...how'd he put it? Oh yeah, 'take time to smell the roses.'"

Freddie exclaimed, "You don't say?"

Henry asked incredulously, "Y-you mean you'd be my boss?"

"Well, yeah, I guess you're right, Henry. I hadn't quite thought of it like that."

Freddie said in wonder, "So the old man wants to retire, huh? Who'da believed it?"

"G-gosh..." Henry murmured.

"Don't say anything to the other boys. I haven't accepted Mr. Blessing's offer yet."

"Wh-why not, Matt?"

Matt removed his hat and scrubbed his fingers through his hair. "I just don't know if I'm up to it."

Freddie repeated in disbelief, "Up to it? Are you kidding me?"

Henry crossed his arms and shook his head.

Freddie continued, "There's nobody I know who's more level-headed..."

Henry nodded firmly in agreement.

Freddie added, "...quick-thinking..."

Henry's lips pressed together as he nodded some more.

Freddie finished up, "...and authoritative..."

Henry stopped mid-nod and quickly asked, "What's that mean?"

"Ready to take charge."

Henry burst out, "Oh y-yeah, Matt. You take charge. Y-y-you're up to it."

Matt voiced uncertainly, "But that's a lot of responsibility. Do I need that much responsibility? I mean, I'm pretty happy right now with the way things are."

Freddie asked, "But is this all you're ever gonna' want with your life? You wanna be a cowboy from now on?"

Matt scratched his cheek thoughtfully. "I don't know."

While Henry raptly listened to his older companions, Freddie waxed philosophical. "I knew I didn't want to cook for the rest of my damn life. I mean, first off, I'm a terrible cook."

Once again, Henry nodded his complete agreement until he saw Freddie sending him a baleful glance, so he wisely stopped, pretending to examine his cuticles.

"I had me a beautiful girl in Beaver Township, and I wasn't gonna win her over by cooking beans and bacon."

Matt asked skeptically, "What's that got to do with me?"

"Come on, Dillon, you're not dense."

Henry peeped up from his fingernails, eyeing Matt askance. Then he shook his head just a little.

Freddie puffed up with importance, "I'm gonna marry my beautiful Celia. I'm gonna buy her a house and we're gonna have a buncha kids."

Matt's voice cracked, "Kids?"

Henry nodded his head knowingly again, repeating,"K-kids."

Freddie finished his life story in the works. "And I'm gonna write for a living. Cause that's what I love doing. Writing. You gotta do what you love, ain't that right, Henry?"

Henry's forehead wrinkled in thought. "That sounds about right."

Freddie questioned, "What do you want to do, Henry?"

"I...I don't rightly know." His face lit up at a sudden notion. "I wanna k-kiss a girl!" Then his cheeks turned beet red at what he'd admitted to his friends.

But neither of them cracked a smile. Matt leaned over and pounded him on the shoulder. "That's a pretty good plan, kid. You got one particular in mind?"

Henry went back to examining his fingernails. "Well, I like one an awful l-lot."

Matt prodded, "And?"

Henry glanced up at Matt with a doleful look on his peach-fuzzed face, "She's taken a shine to somebody else."

Freddie leaned back and crossed his arms, throwing a calculating look at Matt.

Henry murmured, "She's the most b-beautiful, n-nicest girl I ever met in my whole life." His boot heels clattered noisily on the wooden floor as he crossed his ankles and his arms at the same time. "Y-yer a lucky man, Matt."

Freddie agreed, "He's right, Matt. You're one lucky son-of-a-bitch."

Matt gave a small smile and sighed, "I know."

Freddie continued, "If I didn't already love Celia, I might give you a run for your money!"

"Hey now, wait just a minute!" Matt jammed his hat back on his head.

Henry laughed and jumped right in, "Yeah, m-maybe I can get Miss K-kitty to like me yet! I-I-I can bring her flowers. M-maybe I can get me some l-love poems from Boss!" He got tickled at the idea.

Freddie threw back his head laughing. "You see, Matt, you better watch your back! Me and Henry here are just waitin' in line for the chance to steal your girl. She's quite a catch."

"Lionel and C-cletus, too." Henry nodded solemnly. "And Frank." He brushed some dirt off his boot, adding, "They'd all s-s-steal her away from you if you g-gave 'em a chance." He sighed, "Watch your b-back, M-mister." Then he busted out chuckling again.

Matt muttered threateningly, "Come on, you two. We've got work to do back on the ranch. And if I ever catch either of you around my girl, there'll be hell to pay, you got it?"

The only response was uproarious laughter.

tbc

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	26. Chapter 26

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 26

"Celia"

"So, whatta you think I should do, Kitty?" Matt sat with his best girl at the wooden table he and Henry had constructed for her out of rough timbers so that she could have a place on which to serve meals out back on hot days but still have a table for working in the cook shack. Her pup Daisy lay at her feet, giving a wide yawn as she flopped on her side, ready for a nap.

"Will Mr. Blessing pay you more, Matt?" Kitty watched as he took off his hat and laid it on the table, enjoying the cool breeze while they sat in the shade.

"Yeah, but I don't have much need of money. You know that."

"Yeah, I know." She smiled. Matt had never worried about money one way or the other. He'd always been more than happy to tell people that as a U.S. Marshal, he was a poor man. Leastways, nobody could ever bribe him. For one thing, his honor demanded that he always do what was right, and secondly, he just wouldn't have been interested in the damn money. Period.

He reached across the table for her hand. "Do you think I'd make a good foreman?"

"I think you'd make a fine foreman, Matt Dillon," she avowed. She felt a soft paw nudge her through her skirt and reached down to absently rub Daisy's ears while the little dog grunted happily.

"It's just a lot of responsibility. Mr. Blessing has always run his own place. I don't want to disappoint him."

"Oh, Matt, I don't think you could disappoint Mr. Blessing if you tried. He looks on you like a son, don't you know that?"

"You think so?"

"I know so. Why do you think he's chosen you to do this job? Can't you trust his decision? I think he's made the right one." She squeezed his hand and bade him look into her eyes. "You're the finest man I've ever met, Matt Dillon. You're brave and kind and selfless. I don't think there's another man who could do the job better than you. Not one."

Matt looked thunderstruck at her declaration. "Well, I..." He paused for only a moment, gathering his wits, then finally continued in a low, resolute voice, "I guess that decides it then." He looked down at the small hand he held engulfed in his own, suddenly asking in concern, "What happened to your hand, Kitty?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Matt. I burned it on the stove is all."

"Aw, honey, it's blistered. Did you put anything on it? There's a plant that grows wild here the Indians use for burns..."

"It'll be fine, Matt, honest. It's just a small burn. "

Unhappily, Matt uncurled her fingers, chapped from having her hands in dishwater so often. He grumbled, "I wish you didn't have to work so hard."

Kitty resolutely placed her reddened hands on Matt's cheeks so he would look her square in the eye. "Matt Dillon, knowing what I could be doing instead for a living in town..." She paused to let her meaning soak in. "...you'd rather I weren't working so hard? Washing a few dishes and baking a few biscuits is not such hard work when you consider the alternative. You understand me?"

He replied unequivocally, "Yep."

"Didn't take you long to change your mind."

"Well, since you put it that way. I hadn't really thought of it in those terms. And you're right." He soundly kissed both of her chapped hands and cryptically added, "But maybe you won't always have to do this for a living. I'm gonna' go see Boss now and tell him I accept."

Kitty beamed at him before he walked away. Matt Dillon was coming up in the world. And she was here to see it happen.

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"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride..."

Matt looked down at his beautiful, red-headed companion and whispered, "Kitty? What's the matter?" He quickly searched his pockets and came up with a reasonably clean cotton handkerchief. "Why are you cryin'?"

Kitty gratefully accepted his hankie and dabbed at the corners of her blue eyes, brimming with tears. She'd tried her best to hold them back, because she knew how emotion always threw Matt Dillon for a loop. But she'd always been a sucker for a good wedding. "Oh Matt, I'm sorry. You know me..."

But then she realized that this Matt had never attended a wedding with her before-had attended very few weddings actually, he'd admitted to her last week when they'd taken a moonlight stroll down by the river, listening to the cicadas sing and holding hands and sharing secrets about their equally dark childhoods.

She whispered back, "I'm just so happy for them. For Freddie and Celia. They were meant for each other, and they're going to have a wonderful life together."

"Oh..." he muttered, still looking fairly mystified.

She clasped his arm, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, "I know it doesn't make any sense, crying when you're happy, but women sometimes do that."

"So I'd better get used to it. Is that what you're sayin'?"

"You better believe it, Mister." She gave a final sniff and squeezed his arm possessively as a beaming Freddie and Celia marched side by side back down the aisle of the Beaver Township Community Church as man and wife.

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A few weeks earlier, Kitty had just finished her shopping at McCorkle's Mercantile and strolled across the street into the office of the Brushy Heap Bugle looking for her co-worker. "Henry, have you seen Freddie?" she asked the boy, who was busily stacking and tying up bundles of the first official edition of the Bugle. Freddie had claimed it was a bit short on hard news, but he said he had managed to include a breaking story on Cyrus Tatum's missing milk cow and the proffered reward, plus a description of the terrifying Indian attacks from eyewitnesses who'd visited the horrifying scene afterward. Kitty shuddered at the thought, thinking that was more than enough hard news to suit her just fine.

Henry shook his head. "M-miss, he's out deliverin' papers and tryin' to g-get advertisin' business. He says he can make m-more money that way." Henry smiled shyly. "M-maybe he'd even be able to afford to pay me a little, he says. But I t-told him I'd work for nuthin'. Freddie has always been awful n-nice to me."

Kitty smiled warmly at Henry. The boy was so kind and gentle, he tugged at her heart. "Henry, I am positive your help is invaluable to Freddie." She put her hands on her hips to emphasize her words. "I just don't know what he'd do without you! And I bet you two are worn plumb out between working your ranch jobs and getting this paper going."

"Oh, I don't m-mind at all, Miss. It's been f-fun. And exciting, too! Well, I gotta go deliver these. F-Freddie should be back soon, I imagine. Why d-don't you rest a spell while you w-wait?" Henry pulled out a chair for Kitty and hoisted his paper bundles on his shoulder. "I'll s-see you later?"

"Yes, I'll see you at supper, Henry. Bye now." Kitty sat in Henry's offered chair, resting her tired feet, until she heard the distinct sound of singing emanating from upstairs. Kitty grinned because the singer was obviously female and she was belting out the slightly out-of-tune lyrics to _Buffalo Gals, Won't You Come Out Tonight_. _Who on earth?_ she wondered, and then it dawned on her who the voice must belong to. "Hello?" Kitty called. She stood and walked to the foot of the stairs, calling again, "Hello up there!"

A head full of thick, wavy brown hair, tied back carelessly with a blue ribbon, wild curls escaping around her face, suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs. She looked down through wire-rimmed spectacles at Kitty, her dark brow arched in confusion for a moment, but then her face lit up, greenish-gray eyes sparkling. "Hey, I'd know you anywhere! Kitty Russell, right?" Then she clomped down the steps, grabbed Kitty unceremoniously by the hand and tugged her hurriedly back up the staircase. She continued breathlessly as she pulled Kitty into the bedroom, "My name's Celia. Freddie's told me all about you!" Celia crossed her arms and a serious look came over her face as she considered Kitty. "Now, you're a girl. Tell me what you think..." She pointed to a catalog lying on the bare mattress. It was open to a selection of curtains.

Kitty stood looking down at the catalog, a bit overwhelmed at her whirlwind meeting with Freddie's intended. "Well, uh, which ones do you like in particular, Celia?"

The bespectacled girl answered with a resigned sigh, "I don't know too much about curtains, honestly. Our housekeeper Mrs. Rubottom—that's an unfortunate name for a person, don't you think? I think I might've married someone else if I were her-now what was I saying? Oh yes! Our housekeeper is the one who typically tends to purchasing curtains and bedspreads and frilly things of that sort. She even helps me pick out my dresses because I'm quite hopeless at it. Hey, you've got on a pretty dress! I do like that. I've never seen anything quite like it, as a matter of fact." She circled and looked at Kitty's dress all around. "You don't have big poofy skirts! That kind of dress looks infinitely more comfortable than what girls usually wear around these parts. Now where was I again?" She placed a finger on her chin thoughtfully and drew a breath.

Kitty jumped in while she had a chance. "Are you furnishing this room? This is where you and Freddie will stay after you're married, right?"

"How'd you know? Oh, yeah, you work with Freddie. He really likes you, you know. It's a good thing I found him first, huh? Papa didn't really want me to marry him so quick, but I've actually been waiting for quite a while. Freddie just up and got the courage to ask me finally." A dimple appeared in Celia's cheek and her eyes shined at Kitty. "Thank you for your encouragement of Freddie. He told me what all you've done for him."

Kitty flashed a brilliant smile right back at the girl. "Oh, Celia, I was glad to help. I knew he had it in him all the time."

"Yeah, I did too, but I just didn't realize what! He always did love to read a lot. Both of us did. That's how we met, you know." Celia pushed her spectacles further up on her nose.

Kitty asked, "How _did_ you meet, Celia? Freddie's never told me."

"Oh, we met at the dime novel counter at Harrod's Beaver Township Emporium. They have the finest selection of paperback literature there this side of the Mississippi, or so old Mr. Harrod says. Papa says nice girls shouldn't be reading that sort of sensational journalism, and that he's completely failed me as a father because my poor mother did not live to raise me. He still blames himself for that, you know, although how he can blame himself for my mother catching the typhoid, I can't quite figure, but he does. Sit down, Miss Russell." Celia caught her hand and pulled her down on the side of the bed next to her.

"Kitty, Celia. Please call me Kitty," she insisted warmly. Kitty's eyes were twinkling at this vivacious young woman Freddie had chosen to share his life with. She certainly seemed to be quite a match for him. When Freddie had met Celia at Harrod's Emporium, he'd probably not known what'd hit him. The force of her personality was suitably impressive.

Celia beamed at Kitty. "Alright, then, Kitty! We can be friends! Now will you help me pick out some curtains for this room? We can order them from any of this stack of catalogs I have here, Papa says. Papa—my Papa's name is Grover Lamb-does not lack for money as he is the only undertaker in all of Beaver Township and people are forever dyin', you know. Business has always been good for Papa. I help him with his bookkeeping." She patted Kitty's hand and nodded gravely, "Yes, the business of dying is booming apparently because I have never wanted for anything. Kitty, you have the prettiest hair. I wish my hair was that color. Boy, am I ever glad Freddie saw me before he ever laid eyes on you. I wouldn't've stood a chance."

Kitty hurried to respond, shaking her head firmly and clasping the girl's hand. "Oh, Celia, honey, I think you would've won out on pure charm alone. I'm so glad we finally met! Now let's look at this catalog and find you the prettiest curtains they carry."

And that's where Freddie found them, an hour later lying on their bellies on the bare mattress, heels in the air, flipping through the pages while giggling and telling stories on each other and on their beaus.

Freddie's deep voice boomed from the doorway, "My two favorite girls, talking about me behind my back!"

Celia held a hand to her mouth exclaiming, "Honest, Freddie, I didn't tell anything too awful bad." When she spied the brown paper package he carried in his arms, she pointed a finger at him, raising a brow to accompany a sudden thought. "Hey, have you purchased the July issue of _Western Tales of Blood and Suspense_ yet? It should be out by now. I can't wait to find out if Joe Bob Jackson gets away from that murderous band of Comanches! He was really in a tight spot when the author left off in June. Goodness me, what a cliffhanger!"

Kitty got tickled at Celia's tangent. She sure was hard to keep on one track for very long, but Kitty liked this girl immensely already. She blew out a breath and smoothed her hair as she sat up. "Celia, if there's anything else I can do to help you get ready for the wedding, you just let me know, okay?"

"Oh, Kitty, you mean that?" Her forehead creased and she pushed her specs back up on her nose. "I would be ever so grateful. I mean, my ma died so long ago and I don't have any sisters. Not a lot of friends either, truth be told." She looked self-conscious and chagrined all at the same time. "Not too awful many girls around here who like to read _Western Lore_ and _Spine-Tingling Adventures Weekly_. I guess that's one of the reasons Freddie and I hit it off so quickly."

Freddie smiled, "We were meant for each other, Celia Lamb."

Celia chuckled and gushed with a grin, "Aw, Freddie. You're such a darn romantic."

"So are you, Sweetpea! That's why it's a good thing we found each other."

Kitty so envied these two their undying love and certainty and all the things that went with it. Celia's suddenly dramatically mournful voice tore her from her reverie.

"Only three weeks until the wedding, Freddie! Do you think I can get this place ship shape by then? I'm not quite sure..."

Freddie shot Kitty a look. "I bet the two of you together will do a spectacular job."

Kitty nodded with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, nudging her new friend with an elbow as she spoke, "Yep, Celia. Decorating this room will be a piece of cake. Especially all decorated in pink!"

"Pink?" Freddie exclaimed in mock horror and consternation. "Now wait just a darn minute! Maybe this partnership between you two girls is not such a good idea."

Kitty and Celia dissolved in laughter once more. Kitty coughed out, "We wouldn't do that to you, Freddie, honest. We're just pullin' your leg."

Freddie pretended to dab the sweat from his forehead. "I hope so. I'm gettin' outta here before you two put ruffles on my trouser hems. You girls have fun."

"Bye, Freddie..." they chorused and dissolved into girlish giggles and raucous guffaws once again.

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At last the rooms over the Brushy Heap Bugle were decorated beautifully thanks to Kitty's fine sense of taste and style, Celia's unerring sense of adventure, and Grover Lamb's generous financial backing. Mr. Lamb was initially not very happy that his daughter had chosen to marry a man of dubious standing from New York City, of all places, but once his dear Celia set her mind on something, it was pretty much a done deal. The young man had aspirations, and that was very important, not to mention the fact that he was a hard worker and utterly devoted to his only daughter. So Grover Lamb swallowed his doubts and opened his heart, not to mention his bank account, to help the young couple along.

The Lamb's spacious, beautiful backyard garden, a calming oasis of serenity in times of stress for Beaver Township's busy undertaker, was the setting for Celia and Freddie's wedding reception. Not very many decorations were required as the garden was in full, fragrant summer bloom, roses and lilies and hydrangeas all graciously lending their sweet scent to the occasion. Tables made from planks set over sawhorses were fancied up with borrowed tablecloths and chairs from all the neighbors, with torches set up for lighting once the sun went down and the party continued. All the best musicians in town had come to play on a small, raised wooden stage built just for the occasion—and there were fiddles, guitars and a banjo picker all eager to get the show started.

Kitty happily held Matt's arm as they walked into the breath-taking garden. She inhaled deeply and commented, "It's just perfect-don't you think so, Matt?"

Matt smiled down at his girl, wearing her beautiful blue empire-waistline gown again with flowing ribbons and gossamer overskirt and a neckline that took his own breath away. "You think everything about this day is just perfect, don't you?"

"Yep." She gave him a wide smile as she stole his oft-used answer, her eyes sparkling.

Matt couldn't help but think how those eyes perfectly matched her dress and that she was so pretty with her pink-flushed cheeks and sweet little curls, he would have a hard time sharing her with anyone at the party tonight. Funny, he kind of wished it were just the two of them in this garden right now.

But then, a fiddle struck a note, and the band started playing and folks started dancing. Matt said ruefully, "You know I'm not much count at this dancin' business."

"I think you're just fine, Cowboy," she said through downcast lashes, a smile playing at her lips.

"Well, I don't wanna argue with you, but there's no way I'm gonna' let you dance with anybody else right now. You're too pretty to let go."

Kitty's heart fluttered. This young Matt Dillon was still soft and yielding, unhardened by years of bitter experiences. "Yeah, Matt?" she encouraged.

"So would you do me the honor?" He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "To tell you the truth, I just like holdin' you close to me." He lifted a brow roguishly. "In public. And nobody can say a dadgum thing about it."

They both laughed delightedly, and held hands as they headed to the dance floor.

tbc

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	27. Chapter 27

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 27

"Wedding in Beaver Township"

"I've sure worked up a powerful thirst, cuttin' a fancy rug like that! What about you, Kitty?" The band had stopped for a short break, and Matt stood with his hand warmly placed in that delicious spot in the small of her back while they paused on the large wooden gazebo that was serving as a dance floor.

"Lead the way to the punch," she piped up, taking Matt's arm and admiring what a fine form he cut in his fanciest jacket and black string tie. His freshly-shaven skin was dark and swarthy against his clean white shirt, and he smelled so good, she could just eat him up.

They approached the refreshment table, arm in arm, spying a familiar toothless grin beaming back at them. Matt crowed, "Mozelle, how do you manage to get this job at every shindig I show up at?"

Mozelle snapped his fancy yellow gallouses and proclaimed with a lisp, "Cause I make the best punch in all of Rasco County, Dillon, and don't you fergit it!" He delicately handed them each a sparkling crystal cupful. "Take you a taste a' that, and tell me what ya' think. Meantime, I'm gonna put on m' specs so I kin get a proper look at this purty little gal a' yours. Kitty's yer name?"

Kitty waited for the slow burn in her throat from Mozelle's punch to subside before she answered a little hoarsely, "That's me," while the grizzled old man adjusted his spectacles and gave her a wistful smile. She continued, "Whew, Mozelle, you sure do mix up a powerful concoction. But it's mighty tasty, I do admit."

Matt downed his cup quickly and held it out for more. "Kitty wore me out on the dance floor, Mozelle. Gotta get myself built back up for more."

Mozelle filled Matt's cup without looking, spilling a little in the bargain. He was too busy grinning at Kitty. "Yep, you shore are a sight fer sore eyes, little gal. Dillon, you might be askin' fer my punch services at your weddin' afore long." He handed the dripping cup back to Matt, adding drily, "If you got a lick o' sense in that big head a' yers, that is."

Kitty gave a ladylike cough as she choked on both her punch and Mozelle's biting wit.

Matt drawled, "Aw, Mozelle, we just got Freddie married off. What're you tryin' to pull?"

Mozelle smoothed his beard and smiled toothlessly at Kitty some more. "Dillon, I'll take 'er if you don't want her. Honey, us older men know how to please the ladies, yes we do."

"Mozelle, you're gonna scare the lady. She's with me, you old codger, and don't you forget it. Give me some more of that hootch you made before I go take Kitty for another spin around the dance floor. I think I'm startin' to get the hang of this."

Mozelle poured and gave Kitty a wink. Kitty just winked right back at him, making him chuckle and shake his head. "You better keep yer eye on this one, Dillon, and don't let her slip away. You'd be a damn fool if you do."

Matt took Kitty's hand gently and led her toward the gazebo, calling over his shoulder, "I know what I got here, Mozelle. Don't you worry 'bout me." He pulled her close when they arrived, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Nobody's gonna take you away from me, little lady." Where they were touching, she felt so warm and tingly, and it was thrilling, having Matt Dillon talk about her so possessively like that, for everybody to hear. It fairly made her head spin. She leaned into him, pressed her body to his as they wrapped their arms around each other and whirled around the dance floor one more time.

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Hair slicked back, bathed and perfumed, Frank, Leland and Cletus all stiffly danced with smitten smiles pasted on their freshly shaven faces, each with a different raven-haired Holcomb sister from the Coyote Gulch Ranch. Pleasingly plump due to a fondness for baking and consuming sweets, Elizabeth, Isabelle, and Olivia Holcomb were better known around town as Bitsy, Izzy, and Livvy. They were buxom, pink-cheeked belles, sisters that could pass for triplets because they were so close in age and appearance with shining, coal black hair, blue eyes, and pouty red lips. Tonight, each looked like a frilly confection dressed in identical ruffled, flouncy dresses differing only in color-lemon yellow, apple green and mellow peach. The three blissful young cowboys who held them on the dance floor looked like kids in a candy store. The boys were pie-eyed, not with Mozelle's fruit-flavored concoction, but with love. Kitty couldn't help but chuckle happily at the sight of them doing their best at being gallant, charming suitors.

She tugged at Matt's hand though when she spied Henry Small sitting by himself at a table, nursing a cup of punch. She whispered in Matt's ear, pulling him over to sit with their young friend. Matt clapped him on the shoulder as they approached. "Hey Henry, what are you doin' sittin' here all by your lonesome?" Matt looked around appraisingly as he pushed in Kitty's chair and seated himself. "There's lots of pretty girls here tonight, you know."

"Th-there's only th-th-three Holcomb s-s-sisters," Henry answered, chin in hand. Then he added with a wistful smile, "And none as pretty as you, Miss Kitty." He downed the contents of his glass, wiping his mouth carelessly with the back of his hand.

"Oh now, Henry, you're very sweet to say that, but any girl here would be happy to spend time with you tonight." She patted his hand as her brows knitted in concern. "And have you eaten? What do you say we go over to the refreshment table and get you a little something in your stomach besides alcohol? Matt, we'll be right back, alright?"

Matt watched as Kitty laced her fingers in Henry's own and pulled him toward the food. Just then Freddie and Celia approached, plopping down next to Matt with a tired sigh. Freddie exclaimed, "Whew, this gettin' married business is exhausting! Celia, how are you holding out?"

"Freddie Fiore!" Celia impishly wrinkled her nose at him and declared, "You haven't changed your mind, have you?"

Freddie held a hand to his chest and cried, "Never, my darling Mrs. Fiore. You are stuck with me until the bitter end. Until death do us part..."

Straightening her spectacles, Celia bit her lip, grinning happily, and kissed him noisily on the cheek.

Scratching his head distractedly, Matt cleared his throat.

Looking at him like he'd just noticed his presence, Freddie piped up, "Hey, Matt, where's your better half?"

"Better half?" Matt's voice rose in question. "Oh!" He pointed toward where Kitty and Henry stood talking to a young girl, auburn hair braided down her back, freckles sprinkled across her pale cheeks. The girl was smiling shyly as Kitty appeared to be introducing the two young people. Henry held his hat in his hand and was looking studiously at his feet. "Looks like she's doin' a little matchmaking."

Freddie's expression turned tender. "She's always trying to help somebody out, isn't she, Celia?"

Celia nodded wholeheartedly. "I've never had a friend like her before. I don't think I could have gotten our little place ready in time if it hadn't been for Kitty. I know for a fact it wouldn't have turned out so pretty." Celia hugged Freddie's arm.

Freddie added, "That Kitty's some girl, huh, Matt?"

Just then the band struck up a slow waltz. Matt watched as Kitty urged Henry and the auburn-haired girl toward the dance floor. Cheeks flushed, Henry held out his arm and the girl took it. Kitty watched them happily with her hands clasped in front of her. Just then she felt Matt's gaze from across the garden and she looked slowly over at her handsome cowboy, her expression soft. Matt murmured to the happily married couple beside him, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to ask my girl to dance," but his eyes never left the flame-haired beauty with shining blue eyes that matched her exquisite gown.

tbc

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	28. Chapter 28

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 28

"Night, Kitty"

He handed her down out of their borrowed buggy, right in front of her little cabin, his big hands skimming over the thin, silky material of her secondhand blue dress. Standing there at her door, accompanied by the intoxicating scent of roses in full bloom, she could see his eyes glinting at her even in the pale moonlight, sweeping over her, hungrily taking her in like he always did. And like always, his burning gaze sent a shiver of longing down her spine. She needed him to look at her like that, to want her.

His head bent over hers and she felt his breath brush the loose curls around her face as his voice rumbled so deep and low, the sound traveled straight to her belly. "Can I kiss you now, Kitty Russell?"

Her lips parted. She was wholly overcome with that intense longing. She couldn't speak.

So he gave her lips the barest brush with his own, but she felt that soft touch clear through her entire body. Her skin tingled and set her nerves to humming. _How could a big, tough cowboy be so incredibly gentle_, she wondered through a haze of desire.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked again. His voice was pleading and insistent at the same time.

And she answered with a whisper so soft, it was only breath of air, "Yes..."

And then he kissed her so tenderly, so delicately, that her chest ached at the enormity of his small, gentlemanly gesture.

He pulled away, sighing, caressing his thumbs over her flushed cheeks. "You're so beautiful," he stated simply, and with a shake of his head, added, "But I need to go now."

"Do you?" She looked up at him with eyes filled with pure longing. It had been so long since she'd touched him. Since she'd been touched.

"Yes, I do," he answered firmly. "I'll help you get your lamp lit first."

"I don't need it." She stopped him and tried to keep the melancholy tone from her voice. "I'm going straight to bed."

He swallowed hard at the image that brought to mind, of Kitty removing her flowing blue dress in the light of the moon spilling through her windows. He gruffly added, "Well, lock your door when I leave. You'll do that for me?"

She toyed with a loose curl that hung down over her ear. "I will. Goodnight, Matt Dillon." She held her breath for a moment, then asked, "Will you kiss me just one more time, Cowboy?"

He looked torn. "Kitty, I..."

"Yes, Matt?"

"I need to ask you..."

Again she couldn't breathe. "What?" she asked in the merest murmur, even though they were alone on the endless prairie in the dead of night.

"I..." He stopped suddenly and leaned forward, threading his fingers through the curls at the back of her head and pressing his lips to hers passionately. And just as quickly, he pulled away with, did she imagine it—a groan of frustration as he jumped back in the buggy. "Night, Kitty. I'll see you at breakfast?"

She answered in a low, almost musical voice, "I'll see you at breakfast, Matt." Then she stepped into her little cabin, alone.

He waited until he heard the door latch shut before he signaled the horse to leave, looking longingly over his shoulder where she stood watching in the window.

tbc

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	29. Chapter 29

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 29

"Sweet Water"

Kitty cupped her hands in the water and splashed it over her perspiring face again and again. Her makeshift bathtub, not much more than a large washtub really, wasn't comfortable like her big old tub back in Dodge. The water rose up only to her waist and she had to bend her knees nearly to her chest to fit inside. But it was still cool and clean and refreshing on her sweaty, hot skin. It worked, and that's all that mattered.

The employees of the Sweetwater Ranch had woken to a scorcher that morning, and Kitty had nearly melted in the sweltering kitchen baking biscuits for breakfast, standing over the hot stove to cook bacon and eggs. Freddie was well and truly gone now, living in town with Celia and running the newspaper, so Kitty was having to manage cooking for the ranch all on her own. It wasn't that difficult really, now that she'd figured out exactly how much food to prepare for a small crowd of hungry young men. It was just so damn hot on days like this. She'd sweated plumb through her dress and her cheeks were beet red by the time she had finished. She'd served her cowboys, dirty and sweaty themselves by that hour of the morning, although she herself didn't have an appetite and wasn't able to eat a single bite of her own cooking.

After she'd cleaned up the breakfast dishes, her energy sapped by the heat, she'd wearily climbed on the little black mare named Lucy that Mr. Blessing had given her to ride back and forth to her cabin, her small pup Daisy hitching a ride on the saddle with her. After a ten minute ride across the blistering prairie beneath a protective bonnet, she'd settled Lucy in her stall in the tiny barn, comfortably out of the sun with some sweet hay to munch and water to quench her thirst. Daisy had taken a long, noisy drink from Lucy's trough, grunted and yawned, and finally stretched out in a shady corner on some clean straw, too hot and tired to take another step.

Then Kitty had drawn a couple of buckets full of cool water from the well and gone inside the cabin to find a clean dress to change into after a nice bath. She didn't plan on being gone long so nobody would miss her. And she'd be cool as a cucumber and ready to start the next meal, in much better spirits to boot.

Sitting in her cramped tub, Kitty reached and picked up a blue-speckled enamel pitcher of clean water, leaned her head back and poured it over her heated, sweat-dampened scalp, releasing a deep sigh of satisfaction. A person sure learned to appreciate the small pleasures in life when she didn't have a lot to begin with. Setting the pitcher back on the floor beside her, she hugged her knees and rested her wet cheek on top, closing her eyes.

She sat daydreaming, reliving last night, the delicious feel of Matt's lips gently brushing her own, soft as a butterfly's wings in the moonlight after Freddie and Celia's wedding. She was remembering the way he'd looked at her and his passionate kiss right before he left. The evocative memory made her ache inside. What had he wanted to ask her? When would they be alone again?

Kitty missed his touch so badly. She couldn't remember a time when they'd gone so long without making love. But then, this Matt had never made love to her. She smiled to herself. He had no idea what he was missing.

She heard a clicking sound and opened her drowsy eyes. Next to the kitchen table, Matt Dillon himself stood not five feet away clutching a handful of yellow and white wildflowers, his lips parted, eyes transfixed. Neither of them could utter a sound for several breathless moments. Finally, Kitty reached out a hand and said in a musically low, insistent voice, "Come 'ere, Cowboy."

Dropping the flowers on the table, he took a tentative step closer, his swallow audible.

She hugged her knees tighter and looked up at him with sultry blue eyes, murmuring, "I won't bite." She offered him a wet washcloth, the dripping water the only other sound in the room besides Kitty's voice and Matt's ragged breathing. She quietly requested, "Wash my back for me?" and then she held her breath.

Matt stepped closer, removing his hat and throwing it carelessly on the nearby bed, never once shifting his intense gaze as he lowered himself to the floor with his stiff knee. He took the dripping cloth from her hand, and she could both see and feel his large hand trembling. He reached out and gingerly raked aside the drenched hair that lay like ribbons of wet seaweed across her bare back. She sighed when he touched her, caressing her damp, smooth skin, leaving behind tiny bubbles in the cloth's wake. She watched his face, feverish as he dropped the cloth and simply dipped his hand into the shallow water, slicking it over her naked, wet back. She shivered in response; the sensation was almost too much for her to bear after all this time without him. So long... It'd been so long since they'd been together.

He hesitated for an endless moment, narrowed eyes burning a trail over her skin. He reached tentatively to wrap his fingers around her slim, white throat and she leaned her head back, her lips parting in invitation, her eyes dark with desire.

He shook his head, hard. "No, honey..."

Her mouth dropped open as he stood, wiping his damp palms on his pants legs and striding for the door. "What's the matter? Matt?"

"I can't do this, Kitty!" He stopped and shoved his hands in his pockets in frustration.

"Why not, Matt? I want..."

"Don't you see?" He threw her a pleading look over his shoulder.

"See what? Matt, are you angry with me?" She hugged her knees tightly, feeling confused and vulnerable.

"No, Kitty, I am not angry with you, honest. It's just that I can't resist you. I'm a little angry with myself right now." He reversed his direction and took a step back toward her, trying to find the words he needed. He finally blurted out, "I want to marry you, Kitty, honey! I want to marry you before we go any further!" Then he spied his hat, still lying abandoned on the bed, grabbed it and jammed it on his head.

He pointed a finger straight at her and burst out, "I love you!" And he strode out the door, closing it firmly behind him while Kitty's mouth dropped open in utter astonishment. Matt Dillon had just undeniably stated that he wanted to marry her.

tbc

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	30. Chapter 30

Growing Old with Kitty  
by  
Lilyjack

Chapter 30

"Destiny"

"You're a hard girl to find, you know that?" Matt squinted in the hot sun as he pulled the blue bandanna from around his neck, mopping at his perspiring face.

"Maybe I didn't wanna be found. Did you ever think about that?" An appropriately arched auburn brow accompanied the remark. Then a tiny half-smile, but she wouldn't quite look him in the eye. "Come sit by me in the shade, Cowboy, and cool off." She patted the seat beside her.

Matt joined her on the smooth, sturdy marble bench, which he was wholly surprised to find out here in the middle of nowhere. After talking to Henry, who always seemed to keep careful tabs on Kitty these days, especially after the attack by Buford Hicks, he'd headed for the creek to locate her. He'd finally tracked her down a good mile upstream from the ranch. "How in the world did you find this place?" It was hidden in a deeply-shaded gulch within a grove of cottonwoods where the air was cool and still and smelled of the earth.

"Mr. Blessing sometimes comes here to sit. And think. He told me I was welcome to come here also and contemplate life my ownself anytime I wanted. He and Mrs. Blessing used to come on picnics here by the water."

"He did, huh? Mr. Blessing tells you a lotta things, Kitty Russell. Things he'd never even think to tell me. I believe you've got him wrapped around your pretty little finger." Matt touched her little finger and gave it a tiny waggle.

Kitty gave a small, sad smile, and then she looked at Matt piercingly. "Mr. Blessing's a good man. He's just lonely, Matt. He misses having a family."

Matt removed his hat, dusting it on his knee. His eyes were slowly becoming accustomed to the dim light of the deep shade, and that's when he noticed it. A short distance away, still beneath the sheltering trees but higher up, further from the water, a beautiful but relatively small marble building. It was adorned with columns on either side of the wrought iron door. Matt's mouth dropped open at finding such a thing way out here, and he rose from his seat wordlessly, taking a few steps toward it, hat in hand. He could see inscriptions with dates in the stone, surrounded by ethereal angels in flowing robes sculpted in bas-relief, wings outstretched, smooth faces frozen in silent mourning. He felt Kitty sidle up next to him, rest her cheek against his sleeve, slide her hand into his. She whispered, "Juliet Blessing's resting place, Matt."

His voice was just as hushed and respectful. "Who are the other two names?"

"Her parents. He buried them here together. They died in a fire. Hasn't he told you?"

"No, never." His voice became a question. "It says 'and infant'."

"She was gonna' have their child, Matt. She was eight months pregnant."

The pained expression on Matt's face as he stared at the breath-taking monument to the love of Leland Blessing's life spoke volumes to Kitty's heart. She squeezed his hand, and then he began to read aloud another inscription, adorning the marble over the mausoleum's entrance. His lips stumbled over the unfamiliar words as he drawled them out, but the romantic sentiment remained entirely intact. ""Did my heart.. love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I...ne'er... saw true beauty...till this night."

Kitty answered his unasked question, "It's Shakespeare, Matt. Mr. Blessing told me it's from _Romeo and Juliet_. Apparently Leland and Juliet had a very great and tragic love affair, too."

Matt looked down at her. "He never told me, Kitty." His voice was a little defensive.

"I think he's held things inside for a very long time. Maybe it's just time for them to come out."

Matt turned, leading Kitty by the hand back to the bench. She smoothed her skirts over her lap as he began to speak, "Your coming here has been good for Mr. Blessing, Kitty. He's not nearly as cantankerous." Matt gave a teasing little smile, his eyes twinkling. "You've done a lot of good for a whole lot of people since you came to town."

"Oh, Matt..." She traced a finger over the back of his hand, not for the first time admiring his sweet, youthful skin. "'I've just been nice to folks. Listened to them."

"Yeah, you listen alright. I guess I'm not s' good at listening sometimes." He scratched idly at his temple.

She leaned an elbow in her lap, resting her chin on her hand. Glancing at him out of the corner of her upturned eyes, she quipped, "You're a man, Matt. I wouldn't expect otherwise."

Matt threw back his head and laughed, forgetting for a moment that he was sitting at someone's graveside. Then he self-consciously cleared his throat, murmuring, "Sorry, Kitty... You just tickle the fire outta me sometimes."

"Thanks," she chuckled. "I'm glad I can make you laugh, Cowboy. And we're not in church. I think Juliet might laugh, too. Mr. Blessing sometimes thinks she's sittin' up there in heaven watchin' down on us all."

"Really? That old curmudgeon thinks such things? Well, I'll be..."

"He's very poetic, Matt." She wrinkled her brow in admonishment. "Have you taken a look at his library, by any chance?"

"I know he's smart. Any man that reads that many books has gotta be." Matt nervously dropped his hat onto his head again and tilted it back with a forefinger. Then he clasped his hands, bracing his forearms on his knees.

Kitty could tell he was gathering his courage. She could see it in his face, in the set of his mouth, the glint in his eye.

Gently, she urged, "What is it, Matt?"

He sighed and looked at his boots. "Kitty...about this afternoon... I wanna apologize."

"Apologize?" She touched his arm. "Why?"

His face began flushing all the way up to his ears and down to his collar. "Kitty, you know why... I... I..."

He was so flustered and he didn't know what to say, so Kitty rescued him. "Matt, I wanted you to touch me like that." She put her fingertips on his sleeve and her voice was gentle and pleading. "Because I love you."

"You do?" Matt restlessly removed his hat again, setting it on the bench beside him as he turned to face her. "Are you sure, Kitty? Because I'm not book smart, honey. I don't know a whole lot about writers like Shakespeare. I don't have a house or a lotta money." He swallowed hard and resolutely took her hands into his. "But I know I love you."

Her heart squeezed in her chest when the sound of his voice cracked a little at the end of that admission. She held his hands tightly, heartfelt sincerity oozing from every pore of her body at this significant moment in her life. Or was this her second life, she wondered. Her second chance at a life...with Matt. She took a fortifying breath and let the words spill out, "Matt Dillon, I could care less if you were the poorest man on earth. I didn't fall in love with you because you read books or have a fancy house. I love you because you're kind and brave and decent and honorable."

Matt touched her cheek, his blue eyes earnest, searching her face. "I'm glad you feel that way, Kitty, because when it comes to me, what you see is what you get. I'm a pretty simple man."

In spite of the whirling thoughts running through her head, she managed to make her voice sound calm and soothing. "Maybe that's what I like about you, Cowboy."

Matt ran his fingers anxiously through his dark hair, and she could see him working up his courage again. She was nearly breathless with waiting. Would this finally be their chance?

She wanted to memorize this moment, to commit it to her memory forever. Time stood still as she took in everything around her—the sound of the creek water trickling over rocks below and a mourning dove sadly and rhythmically coo-coo-cooing from the branches above. The feel of a soft breeze whispering past her cheek, rustling the dark green cottonwood leaves.

She breathed deeply the heady, honest scent that Matt always carried with him after a hard day's work on the ranch. Looking down at his big hands as they held hers tenderly one more time, she noticed the dirt under his fingernails and a new blister on his finger. And there were still scars on his knuckles from his fight with Buford Hicks, defending her until they nearly beat him to death. Matt Dillon was truly among the most honorable of men and she had no doubts about him, not one bit.

She held her breath when he spoke at last, looking down at their hands. His words were slow, halting, carefully thought out. "Kitty, I want to take care of you. I want us to be a family, honey."

She realized her hands were trembling in his grasp, and her blue eyes mutinously filled with tears. He saw them fall silently on their linked hands and that's when he glanced up in surprise, brushing them from her cheeks with his fingertips. He murmured quietly, gazing at her and said seriously, "I hope this is one of those times you say women cry when they're really happy."

She choked out a laugh and nodded wordlessly.

"I'm really relieved to hear that." He took a big breath and finished what he aimed to say, "I...I want you to have my babies, Kitty."

Kitty watched as the blush spread across his cheeks again, traveling to his ears, and he ducked his head a little at that confession. She reached out and touched his chin, searching those honest blue eyes again.

"Kitty, I...I don't have fancy words to ask you with, but I know, I'm surer of this than I've ever been of anything in my life- that I love you. I don't know if that's enough for you. Cause you're the smartest, sweetest, prettiest girl I ever met in all my born days, so maybe I'm not good enough for ya'." He reached out and tenderly brushed a curl from her forehead. "But I'm askin' you, Kitty Russell. Will you be my wife?"

Kitty wiped the tears from her fevered cheeks once more and cleared her throat before she could trust herself to speak. It came out as a whisper as she reached across and toyed idly with his shirt button. "Do you know how long I've waited for you to ask me that?" Even though she knew he wouldn't really understand her meaning.

But he hurried to answer her with the only thing that made sense to him. "I feel like I'm rushing you, sweetheart. We really haven't known each other very long, but, then again...for some strange reason, I feel like I've known you my whole life. Does that make sense? Like we belong together. Do you think I'm crazy now?"

She shook her head at the irony of that, and looked into his eyes once more, into the eyes of the man she valued more than riches. "No, I don't think you're crazy, Matt Dillon. I love you more than life itself. I would be proud to be your wife."

End

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